


find your way (back to me)

by MillieMay



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kidnapped AU, Taken AU, cw religious content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/pseuds/MillieMay
Summary: Jessica has been taken and with 3 bodies and no leads, Gil and the team have to race to find her before she becomes the next victim
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Comments: 90
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youngghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngghosts/gifts).



> I am officially on break so that means I am back again with some fresh content. I’ve had this idea for about a month but have been bouncing around when in the timeline I’m writing so I have 3 separate chapters partially written with no context in between. Need to work on that part. BUT I finally pieced together the first chapter and with the help of Em found a name for her. Hope y’all enjoy and throw some love to Em bc they were a big help with this one

Gil looks up from his desk at the short knock on his door before two women push their way in. He smiles at Dani but his stomach drops upon spotting Colette. 

“Agent Swanson, I wasn’t aware you were coming.” He greets standing. His eyes flash to Dani who looks apprehensive. The last time the FBI showed up wasn’t… pleasant to say the least. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Lieutenant Arroyo, I’m sorry to come in unannounced.” Her normal edge seems softer. It actually makes him a little more concerned. “Unfortunately there’s no time for greetings. We are on a tight timeframe. I’m sure you’ve been keeping up with what’s been happening in Boston lately, correct?”

He nods, sadly. 2 months ago the body of a high profile lawyer was found with his throat slashed and a gun shot through the heart. His body was found on a bench in the park about 2 days after he’d disappeared from his office. The next week another body, this time a renowned plastic surgeon. A third was found a week after that, a composer. All three found in the same park.

“The case went cold when the FBI came in, figured we scared him into hiding.”

“What brings you to New York?” His eyes shift to Dani who is staring at the ground. His heart drops into his stomach. “Where’s Bright.” His voice becomes thick with worry. It was hard enough keeping him close when there was a case that revolved around the family but this was something much worse. An unattached motive, something that the FBI hasn’t even tracked yet.

“He’s with JT. He’s ok.” Dani assures gently. “But we’re needed on the scene of an accident.” She breathes slowly. “A hit and run that Agent Swanson thinks is related to their case.”

“The plates that we have been tracking showed up in New York. We finally got a hit when I was informed that the car was involved in a wreck with the driver nowhere to be found.” She sighs, the way a cop does when forced to deliver bad news. “The other driver involved in the wreck was Adolpho Ardizonne. He passed away on the scene.”

His head bows in understanding of why this was brought to him. He’d only met the man a handful of times but he knew enough. He knew the kids liked him like a friend, knew Jessica trusted him.  _ Shit.  _ “Has anyone told Jessica?”

“JT and Bright are on their way to her place. After they tell her they’re going to get Ainsley. But Agent Swanson wants us on the scene, to see if there’s anything that we can find that her guys might miss.”

He looks to the agent in surprise and she shrugs. “I need all the hands I can get. I let this son of a bitch slip away from me once, I’m not going to do it again.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The scene is brutal. He’s used to murders but accidents are a whole other spectrum of a world he doesn’t understand.

The street has been closed off in order to allow them proper time to investigate. Dani scopes the area for any CCTV cameras that may have caught the on footage, hopefully they’ll get lucky there and get a look at the bastard’s face.

His eyes cast over to the cars, yet again. Multiple accounts say the crash happened out of nowhere. Must have run a red light, been texting and driving. The on sight ME proclaimed that Adolpho had died on impact, though he makes a mental note to get a second opinion from Edrisa. 

All in all there was a remarkable lack of awareness for a wreck that happened in broad daylight.

“We found a registration in the glove compartment but from the looks of the interior, I’d guess the car was stolen. There’s a carseat in the back and a couple of pictures, we’re going to run them through the database but I doubt we’ll find anything significant pop up. The plates are definitely stolen.” He sighs nodding. He checks his phone wondering if JT and Bright had made it to Jessica’s. He’s definitely going to drive over and check on her after they settle up here. She doesn’t need to be alone right now.

“We got something over here!” A male voice calls their attention. He’s kneeling by a set of tire marks. It was small but as they got closer he could see the spots of blood on the ground. “They could be our guy’s.”

“Good work Decker.” Agent Swanson nods. “Mark it for the analysts and keep moving.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He can’t shake the voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Bright, “Mark the tracks too, they could be significant.”

He moves to go back to the wreck when a sound stops him in his tracks. A phone rings for a couple of seconds, then stops. He could have sworn… The ringing starts again seconds later. This time more officers notice. They look between themselves but none of them reach for their phones.

Despite his heart hammering in his ears, he follows the sound back to the cars. With the doors open, it’s not hard for him to realize that the sound is coming from inside. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat as he leans inside, listening for the ringing to start up again. He begs it not to.

Anxiety hits him full force when he spies the light from under the seat. Reaching for the source he pulls out a phone. The screen is cracked but he can make out the background just enough.

It’s a picture of Malcolm and Ainsley smiling side by side at Ainsley’s college graduation.

_ 3 missed calls from Malcolm. _

His hands shake as conclusions piece together in his head. Jessica was in the car at the time of the wreck. She wasn’t found when ambulances arrived on the scene. 

This isn’t an accidental hit and run. This is the scene of a kidnapping.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reception for this fic was so fucking sweet, this really went beyond what I expected I honestly just thought this would be a self service fic but it hit off so well. Honestly, wrote the next chapter to cope with the anxiety of being home and general holiday stress so I hope y’all enjoy it. And thank y’all for all the sweet comments they mean the fucking world to me.

_ Jessica tries not to let the sigh escape her throat, she really does. But when Gil comes in arms loaded with gifts it probably took him weeks to save for she can’t help it. _

_ She can afford literally anything he wanted to buy for her or the kids and then some but she resisted. _

_ If not to see the proud little grin on his face when he knows he absolutely nailed the gift that the recipient never even knew they wanted. _

_ He’s quite good at knowing what people never knew they needed. _

_ She invites him in, nonetheless, taking some of the load off, only with a little chiding that he still shouldn’t carry so much. It has only been a few months since his injury. He needs to give his body time to heal.  _

_ Malcolm and Ainsley would arrive soon, hopefully carrying something that wasn’t a twist-on. But for now she would enjoy Gil’s company. His warmth wards off the cold that always seemed to linger in the hollow rooms. His smile lights up even the darkest corners as she leans into his embrace. He pulls out old records that collected dust for years, grabbing her hand and swinging her around the room with more grace than anyone would expect. _

_ They don’t even notice when the children arrive. Only when Gil spins her and she nearly runs straight into Malcolm do they realize they are no longer alone. The laughter catches the air like a flame, spreading across the room with an infectious glee that most of them had not known for far too long. Gil pulls Ainsley in next, taking her as his next partner. _

_ She almost bursts with joy when Malcolm takes her hand to dance without hesitation. His movements are still but he is letting go, allowing himself to enjoy the small moments in life that don’t revolve around homicide. _

_ She’s so proud that she feels tears building behind her eyes. _

_ The music fades and the silence takes over, no longer as deafening but rather content. _

Jessica startles awake to a loud crash. Immediately she regrets opening her eyes as pain rips through her head. She reaches up to feel where it hurts but something is holding her down.

It takes a few seconds for the world to come into focus, once it does she wishes desperately for the peace of the dream. Her hands are zip tied to the chair she’s sitting in, her neck and head both ache like nobody’s business. She shuffles through her mind to try to remember what the hell happened. There was a crash, then her world was spinning, she checked on Adolpho… Oh god, Adolpho.

A soft sob of realization takes over her. What happened between the crash and now? How the hell did she get here? She was on her way to a meeting for becoming the head of Eve’s charity in her honor.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Fake sincerity drips from a figure previously hidden by the shadows. She stiffens, suddenly all too aware of her situation. She holds still, as if that would help, if she wouldn’t move they wouldn’t see her. If she closes her eyes she can open them again to the warmth and happiness radiating from her family. “Sorry for the mess, had to improvise.” The shadow gestures absentmindedly. 

“Who are you?” Her voice rasps painfully. She wonders how long exactly she was out for.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I’m much more interested in you.” He comes closer, enough for her to recognize that he’s wearing a mask. “Jessica Whitly, my you are a sob story if there ever was one.” He walks across the room, footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. “Disgraced daughter of the Miltons, married to a serial killer, and dated another socialite exposed to be heading a dubious business,” he sighs. “Truly Shakespearian, have you thought about selling the rights to your story?” 

“Are you done?” She tries not to let her voice waver, her fear shakes just beneath the surface, but she’s not running or hiding now. Malcolm and Gil will find her. She just needs to stall as long as she possibly can.

“Hardly.” The venomous glee sends a chill down her spine. He tilts his head in a way that flashes her back as if she were in Claremont all this time. “Just killing time until our guest arrives.”

“I can give you all the money you want, just let me go.” The bark of a laugh makes her jump, immediately regretting the sudden movement as pain pierces her skull yet again.

“I don’t want your money. It can all burn for all I give a shit.”

“What do you want then?” She pleads.

Even with the mask she can feel his deadly grin, like a cat taunting it’s prey just before it pounces. “You.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gil checks his phone yet again, waiting for Malcolm’s text. He told JT to get Ainsley and get both of them back to the precinct immediately. He almost wishes he’d done it for himself, having them in his sight would be a hell of a lot more comforting right now especially as he stares at the lieu of pictures scattered across his desk.

He trusts JT, though. He’s getting them here as fast as he possibly can with two out of three of the most stubborn people he’s ever met in the back of his car. No doubt they have hundreds of questions that poor JT doesn’t even know the answer to, he’s simply following orders and right now they’re on a strict need to know basis.

Colette will lock Malcolm down as soon as he arrives. He’ll be able to loosen the reigns, but only a little. He’ll be lucky to leave without Dani or JT personally handcuffed to him. Hell, Gil will be lucky if she doesn’t choose him to be handcuffed to Malcolm.

He hears the door to his office open and he feels the lump in his throat develop once again.

“Why are the FBI here?” “Why did I just get pulled out of work and rushed here?” “Why isn’t mom answering my calls?” “Why did we get escorted here by two more cop cars?”

The two siblings speak simultaneously and he sighs raising a hand to stop them. He braces himself delivering the news as impersonally as he could to the two people he basically watched grow up. “You’re both familiar with the kidnappings and murders in Boston?” They nodded, going to talk again but he stopped them with a pointed stare. “This morning there was an accident, one of the cars matched the plates of the car Agent Swanson has been tracking for that case.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Ainsley asks, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve, it’s a nervous tick he’s known since she was 12. Her mother tried to break the habit but was never really successful.

“The other driver was Adolpho.” Ainsley’s eyes widen, she looks to Malcolm who only nods solemnly. “He died on impact.”

“Oh my god.” Malcolm reaches over, squeezing her hand. He watches the younger man straighten, preparing himself for the next blow. He’s all too familiar with the practices and knows that Gil has more to deliver to them. He nods, silently telling him to continue.

“We found this in the backseat of the car.” He turns the photo of Jessica’s phone to them and watches as the dots connect in both of their heads. “We also found blood on the back window that we believe is your mother’s.”

“You believe?” Ainsley’s voice cracks for the first time that he’s heard in years. Even after Paul Lazar, even after Endicott Ainsley didn’t waver. “What do you mean you believe is hers? Where is she?”

“You think the killer took her.” Malcolm whispers. Almost as if he says it too loud, it will make it true. His hands fly to his eyes sucking in a breath when Gil nods in confirmation. He knows it’s his way of trying to keep tears back, just long enough to keep his head from going into full meltdown and instead switching to investigator.  
“Dani found CCTV footage of the wreck. The suspect’s car redlight, crashing into Adolpho without even slowing down. The man climbs out of the car and goes out of frame. A couple minutes later an ambulance shows up, another man helps your mother into the back and they drive off.”

“Shouldn’t she be fine then? We just need to find out want hospital they took her to. She’s probably logged as a Jane Doe if she doesn’t have her purse either. She probably hit her head and she’s confused or unconscious and we need to-”

“Ainsley.” Malcolm’s tone stops her. He’s already read Gil’s expression, knowing what’s coming next.

“The ambulance on the scene was reported stolen just an hour before the wreck.” He watches as Ainsley’s face crumples, despite her best attempts to hold it together. Malcolm pulls her into a loose hug, rubbing her back in comfort. He can tell only by the slightly uneven breaths that Malcolm is crying as well.

His eyes sting and every fatherly instinct wants him to go to them and hug them. Tell them everything will be fine just like he did 20 years ago. He gives them time to settle again, determination overpowering their shock and grief. “What can we do?”

“Right now, stay in sight. I’ve already got the FBI pressing hard enough on this pushing for a clean end but I don’t think that’ll be the case. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m assigning each of you an officer and if either of you tries to shake them or go off on your own I’m putting you in a holding cell.” He raises a brow at the two of them. “Understand?” 

“Yes.” They answer in unison. Gil tries not to think about the two kids, hardened too young. With only each other and their mother to hold onto in the storm that raged around them. Now with one less thing anchoring them to this earth.

“Let’s get to work.”   
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The clanging of metal pulls Jessica’s attention from the deep abyss she allowed herself to sink into. The man had long left with the promise of the “guest” lingering over her head. She busied herself praying to every deity that she could think of that Malcolm, Ainsley, Gil, all of them were safe. She stopped believing in God long ago but her desperation outweighs her beliefs right now.

Different, slower footsteps shamble in front of her. This man looks younger, his physique, at least. He places something down against the wall before dragging a chair in front of her. She feels bile rise in the back of her throat when the something against the wall groans in pain. The man shuffles back over to the body, lifting it with ease yet again and placing it in the chair across from her. He secures the wrists individually to the chair before standing behind it. She stares at him for a moment, she swears his movements almost seem hesitant.

The static of a radio starting up breaks the relative silence. “Take off his hood.” She recognizes the voice of the man who was taunting her earlier. The other figure does as he says, removing the bag from over the tied up man’s head. Fearful bloodshot eyes meet hers. “This is Tommy Moore. He is a resident at Montgomery and from what I hear? He will make a promising young surgeon one day.” She swallows hard trying to calm the nerves building up in her stomach. “Do you know who she is Tommy?” The poor boy can only get out a whimper. Her heart sinks when she hears the sound of a gun cocking from behind him. “Answer me!”

“Y-yes.” He chokes out. “I saw her on the news. She was looking for a missing girl o-on Christmas.”

“Do you think she would choose your life over her own?” Tommy bows his head sobbing openly. “Please don’t do this.”

“Let him go.” She begs.

“Well would you Mrs. Whitly?” The sentence cuts deep. “Would you choose your life over his?” She closes her eyes, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. She thinks of Malcolm and Ainsley, no idea of where she was. She thinks of Gil, pouring everything he has into finding her. She even thinks of Martin, the horrid man who no doubt has caused this somehow in some way.

And then she thinks of her dream. She holds onto the smell of Gil’s cologne surrounding her as they spin around her living room, the sound of Ainsley’s laugh bouncing off of the walls as Gil dips her, Malcolm’s smile brighter than she remembers it being in so very long. And she hopes they forgive her. “No.”

The silence feels as if it stretches for hours. She waits for the gunshots. She waits for the pain and then the utter nothingness of death. “Perhaps you didn’t understand my question. Would you die so that Tommy here can live?”

“Yes, I would.” The boy cries only get louder, mixed with tragedy and relief. She almost wants to cry with him.

“No!” The voice roars and they hear something from the other room crash. “You’re doing this wrong!” Another stretch of silence, this one even longer than the last. “You would rather die, so that he can live?!” Tommy looks at her, finally, and the realization strikes her. His eyes looked familiar, the same shade as Martin’s. His curly, unkempt hair even the shade so similar she’d assume he was a relative had she not known Martin had no other family. Everything was a subconscious push so that she’d choose her own life over his. This was a losing game.

“I choose his life over mine.” She says with more anger than before. She wouldn’t fall for this game. Even if it meant her own she wouldn’t put an innocent life on the line. She hopes for her children’s sake that they find her eventually. She hopes that they find peace.

“Shoot him.”

“What?” The man with a gun asks before either of them could.

“Shoot him!” The shot makes her ears pop. She never knew a gun could be that loud. Blood hits her face causing her to flinch, watching in horror as the boy slumps forwards. A cry rips through her throat as she struggles against the bonds tying her down.

“Why?!” She screams. “Why did you do that?!” She folds over on herself trying to contain the panic threatening to swallow her whole. Every fiber of her wants to fight back, to fight her way back to her family. Her head screeches in pain, spots flashing in front of her eyes. It only seems to get more intense though as her world tilts and spins with an effort to stay awake.

“You chose wrong.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite sure how I feel about this chapter but it is just a bit of a turning point for the next 2 chapters coming so I promise y’all that the next 2 will be better than this. Initially I had a scene going into this but I had to split the chapter when it just got too long and my brain was like “nah”. Ended up working for the better and I’m super excited about the next. Hope y’all are staying safe and enjoy this update

The morning comes with a pit of dread in Gil’s stomach. He was awoken by an early call, dragged out of the restless slumber of accidentally fallen asleep on a stack of case files. There was the body of a man discovered in a park this morning by a jogger. He didn’t match the M.O. at all other than the location of disposal. Still as he pulls up he can feel the tension pulling at him.

Something isn’t right.

He can make out Malcolm’s pacing form as he approaches. He lingers close to Edrisa who’s examining the still form on the bench. The corpse was dressed for the snow that accumulated overnight, eyes closed and arms crossed over the chest.

“Cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the back of the head.” Edrisa states, he assumes they proceeded without him when Colette arrived on the scene. That’s good, the less time they waste the better. He can have Malcolm fill him in on the extra details later.

“That doesn’t make sense. None of this matches the M.O. This screams remorse. Our killer isn’t remorseful, he’s cold and calculated. He’s accounted for every possibility. He targeted my mother in the middle of the day and stole an ambulance. He doesn’t  _ do  _ remorseful.” Malcolm rubs his hands over his eyes and Gil wonders for a moment if he even sat down in the past 12 hours. The boy already looks drawn thin, exhaustion battling with the caffeine in his system.

“I don’t think this is our guy.” Agent Swanson speaks up moving from her spot to the victim. “The only thing that matches up is the location. It was convenient to pawn it off onto a serial killer and get away with the crime.”

“What’s convenient about cops patrolling parks all over the city?”

“Bright.” Gil’s tone is a warning. He doubts it’s by Colette’s choice that he’s here rather than stopping him from doing so anyways. The last thing any of them need is to be at each other’s throats, but he is right. With cop cars patrolling all over the likelihood of getting by without being spotted is small.

It’s clear the scolding only makes him more agitated, Malcolm rocking back on his feet with a frustrated huff. He pulls him aside placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. This is hard on all of them but Malcolm, especially. He’s seen first hand what this killer does to his victims, hell he doesn’t blame the kid for feeling irritated by the slow proceedings. It doesn’t help that Dani lingers behind his every step.

He quietly notes to himself to get something nice for JT and Dani both. With watching Ainsley and Malcolm both they’re going to be on the end of more snide comments and snappings than either of them deserve.

“You don’t have to be here. Go back with Ainsley and work the press. This is not going to get easier.”

“I can’t. You know that.” His eyes fall on the body again. “It doesn’t make sense but I  _ know  _ this is our killer.”

“I believe you.” He offers Malcolm a sad smile. “Go back to the precinct, and gather all the connections you can. Swanson is going to be a hard sell. You gotta make this one believable.”

“I need help.” Gil frowns, understanding settling into him. “I have to go see him.” He immediately defends upon seeing his expression.

“Swanson won’t allow it.” He glances over Malcolm’s shoulder and the woman watching them with narrowed eyes. “It was her condition of you staying on this case, that you stay far away from Martin.”

“If I can shake Dani for 20 minutes.”

“It won’t work Bright. She’s got 3 other cops watching you.” Malcolm nods with a humorless smile. He can practically see the boy unraveling in front of his eyes. Hell, he feels it a bit himself. “I’ll go.”

Concern and panic flashes over Malcolm’s face. “You can’t.” He protests. He’s not visited Martin since Malcolm was taken but he feels the same panicked pull. If he can help them find Jessica in some way, any way he’ll do it.

“I’m the only one that can.” Malcolm tips his head back again, shaking it. Hesitation radiates from him, and he understands why. Part of Malcolm wants to protect anyone he’s close to from Martin. The other half knows that he might be crucial to the case.

“I’ll go back with Dani and Edrisa. There might be something we missed in the previous autopsies that can connect this victim to them.” He turns to walk away but stops himself. “Be careful.” 

Gil pulls him in giving a short hug. “We’ll find her, I promise.” He feels Malcolm hold tighter and his heart breaks a little. He remembers carrying him into his home after he’d fallen asleep on his couch. Just before he passed Malcolm to Jess he gripped onto him a little tighter, refusing to leave his side. When he finally untangled himself from the 12 year old’s grip he took to wrapping himself around Jessica instead. The look on her face had him smiling for a week.

He has to find her, for Malcolm.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jessica’s throat feels raw from screaming when she wakes again. Her head cranes, searching for the sound that woke her. She spies someone lurking in the shadows and she almost relaxes.

“Can I have some water?” She gauges carefully. The shadow stops moving but he doesn’t speak. The radio doesn’t turn on either, so she continues. “What’s your name?”

“Shut up.” Just like she suspected, he sounds young. If she had to guess, he was no older than in his early 20s. “He’ll be back soon.”

“Why did you kill him?” She presses. He freezes again, she waits holding her breath for the answer.

“I was following orders.” Jessica takes a breath trying to quell the panic building in her. She tries to remember all of Malcolm’s talks about killers and the psychology that he often rambled about when he found a topic that particularly interested him. Right now it feels like all of it is escaping her, replaced with a voice screaming to run.

“Where did you take him?” She bites her bottom lip when he turns towards her slowly. The mask obscures all but his eyes and even the darkness of the room prevents her from entirely making out those.

“Where he could be found.” He almost sounds sad. She straightens up leaning forwards. Her head still aches but it’s no longer the piercing pain it was before.

“Who are you?” She asks again. “What do you want from me? Anything, ask for anything and I will get it to you. Money, a plane ticket, I could get you out if you help me.”

“He doesn’t want anything from you.” Her eyebrows furrow.

“What do you want?” He stops again. She thinks he might answer when the sliding of metal cuts them off.

“Why the hell didn’t you pick up?” She recognizes the voice from the radio. Anxiety grips her when she hears another, this one muffled. Her worst fear comes to fruition when the man drops another person into the chair across from her.

This one is older, salt and pepper hair falling in front of his eyes. His mouth is duct taped, one of their kidnappers leans over ripping it off harshly once his wrists are secured. “Please, where is Michael? I just want to know he’s ok.” He begs.

“Shut up!” The older one shouts.

“Where is he, please. I’ll give you anything just tell me where he is. I need to know he’s safe.” The sound of the slap resonates off the walls. She winces in sympathy as tears stream down the man’s face.

“Andrew Rankin,” The older man circles around him. “Father, husband, and cheater.” The man, Andrew, bows his head, his shoulders shaking with his cries.

“You don’t understand.” He sounds strained. “Where is Michael, please, tell me where my grandson is.”

“Jessica, I think you can sympathize with his poor wife. Afterall, isn’t that what you thought your husband was doing for months?” A lump forms in her throat. How the hell did he know that? Those videos were never released to the press. Not even Malcolm knew until just last year.

“We fixed things. Our marriage is stronger than it’s ever been, please.” The man begs.

“What’s your choice? His life or yours?” Andrew’s head snaps to her, panic in his eyes. She knows his fear, the fear of dying not knowing where your loved one is. When the junkyard killer took Malcolm she would’ve burnt the world down to find him. She swallows heavily, turning her head towards the older man.

“Tell him where his grandson is.” She demands.

The laugh booms off the walls sending ice down her spine. “You are in no place to be making demands Ms. Whitly. The sound of a gun cocking makes her straighten.

“Tell him where and I’ll make my choice.” Her voice doesn’t waver, it’s more confident than she feels. She can see the cheshire grin even through the mask. The gunshot is less expected, pain blossoming in her side where she was shot. The shout of pain is drowned out by the younger kidnapper’s protests. Her head spins, adrenaline making her heart race.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, his life or yours.” The gun cocks again.

“Kill me.” She relents. If anything, this man should have the chance to see his grandson again. She allows herself a moment of peace to imagine what a life like that would be like.

A little granddaughter with Ainsley’s blond curls and a grandson with Malcolm’s piercing eyes. The sound of small feet warming her home again, filling up the corners with rapturous laughter rather than the hollow silence of 23 killed.

Another shot breaks her fantasy.

A sob leaves her throat as the man in front of her goes limp. Her side aches with the movement. She can’t hear the two men arguing over the blood roaring in her ears. All she can see is the man in front of her, only wishing to know if his grandson was alive. He died without peace. He died without knowing.

She bows her head crying for yet another family she doesn’t even know. Her side screams with every shake but the tears don’t stop coming. She can’t seem to get enough air in her lungs, each breath shorter than the last. Even when the metal door slams shut again and the room is silent apart from her, they don’t stop.

She cries for the man, who died scared and alone. She cries for his children, losing their father in a violent and abrupt way for no good reason other than he was in the wrong place. She cries for the grandchild, she hopes against everything in her screaming otherwise that he was found and taken to the police. Simply lost in a park, not somewhere taken by these men.

The shaking only gets more violent as she thinks of her own family. Of Ainsley, with her normally perfectly groomed hair frayed and messy from late nights. Of Malcolm’s eyes hollow from lack of sleep. Of Gil, hunched over his desk searching for answers that aren’t there.

It’s not until she has no tears left, her eyes puffy and sore. A grim anger settles over her as she makes her decision. She’s going to get out of here and back to her family. No matter what she has to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve! This chapter took an unfortunate amount of time cause of shopping for my little siblings but I finally had the night away from anything to do and was finally able to punch something out. Hope y’all have a lovely, safe Christmas! The next chapter is already written so that’ll be coming soon!
> 
> Edit: My friend pointed out a shit ton of spelling errors and grammatical errors. Thank god for them lmao
> 
> cw /// religious content

Gil tries to contain his unease as the lock to the cell echoes in the halls. The pit in his stomach only seemed to grow as he makes eye contact with no other than Martin Whitly himself.

He made Malcolm the promise that he would find Jess, he intended to keep it. No matter the price. They’re nearing the 48 hour mark, only 5 hours away. Malcolm only grows more frantic, analyzing every small detail, Ainsley grows more agitated at her lack of freedom to roam at her own risk. 

Their limited resources are growing thin and the media is chomping at their heels for answers to the two bodies dropped in the park. Since a “letter from the killers” was dropped on the media’s doorstep, the questions of “The Needle’s Eye” haunts his every move. Colette herself collected the letter, but even with their top analysts on the case they’re not sure. Nevertheless every piece of news imaginable had attached to the name and rolled with it. Every print, every broadcast, it’s eating at him.

In other words, he’s desperate.

“Gil!” Martin’s face cracks into an almost jovial smile. One that he witnessed firsthand the vicious nature behind. “I have to say when Mr. David said I had a visitor I wasn’t expecting you. My children haven’t gotten themselves into trouble again have they? Can’t seem to get a hold of anyone these days.” Gil bites his tongue waiting until he exhausts himself. “Where is my boy? Not keeping him from me I hope? Didn’t turn out too good the last time, hm?”

“Dr. Whitly-”

“And I haven’t seen Ainsley on broadcast in two days! I was so happy when they let her back from her  _ sick leave _ ,” he speaks out the side of his mouth with a sly wink. As if they’re sharing some fucking gossip over brunch. “They aren’t questioning that decision are they? Because I can still pull some strings if need be, I mean she was made for broadcasting.”

Gil clears his throat and that seems to catch his attention long enough to get off of the topic, “I’m assuming you’ve heard of the needle’s eye?”

“Oh yes, tragic. Point for creativity though” For a moment, he’s not sure whether Martin means the name or the act itself. The thought tastes like venom in his mouth.

“And you’ve heard that they’ve moved their hunting ground to New York?”

He nods but Gil can see the shift as he begins connecting the dots. He straightens taking exactly three steps closer. Any fake smile or sympathy is gone in the split of a second. “Where are my children?” He asks again, this time the question feels more like a threat. It’s almost accustory the way he bares his teeth. Still he doesn’t waver.

“Malcolm and Ainsley are at the precinct. They’re under strict watch until we catch the men responsible.” Martin relaxes, nodding. “I’m here about Jessica.”

“She didn’t fuck him too, did she?” He barks out a laugh. He runs his tongue across his top teeth with a huff. The comment is a dig and it takes all of his power not to turn it right back at the smirking man.

“Two days ago we found her car at the scene of a wreck. Her driver Alphonso died on impact and we found evidence that she was taken by two men pretending to be paramedics.” Gil delivers the case with the most professional tone he can muster with the anger building in his chest. “The license on the car that caused the wreck matched ones connected to the FBI’s case against the killers.”

He’s not sure exactly what he expected but the laughter booming from deep within startles him. The sound bounces off the walls mocking him to his core. It screams with pointed accusations, his failures to protect her yet again dig in with pointed teeth.

He’s slamming Martin against the wall before his brain catches up to his actions. Anger clenches his jaw, wanting nothing more than to pull every damn answer out of him. The sound stopped with the movement, replaced with a taunting grin that doesn’t make it to his eyes. Martin leans his head back against the concrete looking down upon him. 

He played exactly into what Martin wanted.

He lets go before Mr. David can even open the door, retreating back behind the line in defeat.

He won’t help Gil, even with Jessica in harm’s way. The mere thought brings back to bloody, impulsive rage yet again but he tampers it this time. A lump forms in his throat at the thought of her somewhere; hurt, alone, terrified.

He thinks of Malcolm, eyes hollow with misplaced guilt. Driving himself into the ground until it’s too late. He thinks of Ainsley who would burn the city to the ground to find Jess if she could. He remembers his promise to them. No matter the price.

Gil turns back to Martin, who’s still grinning at him like the devil himself. “Malcolm and Ainsley need you.” He bites his cheek so hard that he can taste the blood in his mouth. It’s better than tasting his own words.

Martin’s jaw drops, for the first time he believes The Surgeon is speechless. He gapes, trying to collect his thoughts a few more times. “The Needle’s Eye, possible religious background. I believe the phrase goes:  _ it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.  _ Now, I think that a little harsh but that’s beside the point.” 

“And the other bodies?”

“No doubt connected to the killers, don’t let the ol’ switcheroo fool you. These men believe the rich to be the epitome of sin. Greed, lust, gluttony the whole nine yards. He’s proving a point. Making them choose who lives or dies. Them, or a perfectly innocent stranger.” 

“They’re partners.”

“Clearly there’s a dominant. The one who enacts the brutal killings, and the one who disposes of the victims. The dominant wouldn’t show remorse for the innocents, they’re simply the sacrifice of his mission.” He curses internally because it makes sense. “But there’s a twist. If they choose to live, they die a brutal death. If they sacrifice themselves, the stranger dies. Judging by the news. Jessie’s making the wrong choice.”

“So she’s alive.”

“At least until she changes her answer.” Gil tries to swallow but his throat feels like the desert. Two bodies, who knows if the killer has found a third victim to capture. It’s only a matter of time before Jess makes the connection to the answer the killer wants, at the cost of her life.

The clicking lock draws both of their attention. Mr. David hovers there with a stern look on his face. “You’re needed at the precinct.”

“What happened?”

“Malcolm just punched a journalist.”

“Oh, good for him.” Martin grins. “Don’t tell Ainsley, but a lot of them can be so pushy.” 

He grits his teeth following Mr. David out of the door. This will not help Bright’s case with Colette. She already struggled letting him in on the case in the first place and it’ll be a struggle keeping it that way. He ignores the calls of Martin as he walks down the hall.

“Do visit again Gil! It was lovely talking with you!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The flooding of sudden light makes Jessica wince, hand instinctively trying to shield herself. After god knows how long in relative darkness the brightness stings her eyes. She squints watching a figure in black stumble into view.

“This is all your fucking fault.” Her heart dips as her eyes adjust. His knuckles are bloody and his footprints he leaves are crimson. The thought sinks in all at once. The partner, the one who had just been pleading and arguing with the man about killing innocents. The one who was young and stupid and impressionable was likely dead at the hands of this evil man. “If you weren’t such a stupid bitch!” 

The backhand across her face stings but the aftermath gives her the opportunity to truly see her captor, even through the mask. Her stomach does a flip as she realizes in horror that she’s all too familiar with the black uniform. One she’s had the misfortune of seeing too many times for her liking over the years. One that matches Gil’s long before he was a Lieutenant. The badges and markers are covered or removed but she recognizes it regardless.

The glint of silver catches her gaze next, the knife is clutched in the man’s hand with a death like grip. She wonders briefly if he actually intends to kill her this time. “You’ve fucked up everything.” He spits before bending over to be on her level. “So I’m going to have to improvise.” With his face this close she can smell the cheap vodka on his breath. He grips her chin between two fingers forcing her eyes to meet his. “I’ll just have to get one of your kids. Maybe they’ll make the right choice. Dear mommy or a poor stranger.”

Whatever energy she still has flares in her with her protective instincts. She rears back and smashes her forehead into his nose before he can react. His drunkenness helps the clumsy instincts. The hit makes her head spin and her side ache with a new flare of pain that spreads all the way across her chest. 

It’s almost worth it to see him bleeding.

He yells both in pain and in anger, raising the knife high in the air. She braces for the kill, it would be worth it to spare her children the pain of that choice. One that they would no doubt in her mind, make to save her in a heartbeat. She closes her eyes.

She screams when the knife pierces her leg. She opens her eyes again to see it deeply embedded in her thigh and the man stumbling back away. The lights flick out again as the tears escape uncontrollably. The pain of it chokes her until she can’t help but weap. All of the energy that had taken over to protect her kids flooded out. 

Tipping her head back she let out a final scream. All of her frustration, anger, fears piled into one a she mentally berated whatever higher power was out there. Afterwards with her throat sore and head heavy, she allowed herself to be pulled into the welcoming darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling extra generous so here’s the next update. And also ask literally any of my friends once I finish writing something I’m the most impatient fuck and I’m ready to immediately publish. I have very little impulse control

Jessica’s head swims when she wakes again. The world tips violently threatening to pull her under another wave of dizziness. Briefly she’s aware of another person across from her. 

“Oh god, please. Please help me out. I just want to see my mom, please.” The voice is painfully young again. She blinks trying to force her vision to clear. The pain in her side gnaws at the back of her mind only combated by the throbbing in her leg. Even through the blur she can still see the knife sticking out of her leg.

For the first time in however long she’s been here, she feels hope. If she can get a hold of the knife she can get back. She can protect them. The thought makes her eyes sting.

Finally her sight straightens and blissfully she doesn’t catch sight of her captor. The boy across from her has his eyes fixed on the blood staining her blouse. Tears streak down his cheeks while almost nonsensical ramblings to god spill from his lips. She must have moved because his eyes snap up to her, his jaw clamping shut in fear.

Did he think she was dead?

“Is he here?” He looks confused for a moment, then he shakes his head. “How long has he been gone?”

“I don’t know.” His voice cracks from either emotion or screaming.

“What’s your name?”

“Freddy.” He sniffs.

“I’m Jessica.” She smiles, as comfortingly as she can. She looks around, her mind racing. “Freddy, I need you to do something for me ok?” He nods jerkily. “Good.” She twists her leg testing her reach. Her fingers brush the hilt of the knife, she twists a little further managing to grab it between two fingers. “Close your eyes and keep talking. I need you to make as much noise as possible.”

“Why do I need to close my eyes?” She frowns. She knows more than one should that something like this will never leave his mind.

“Just do it.” Thankfully, he concedes. His ramblings pick up again, this time louder than before. She reaches for the knife again, pulling with what little she could reach. The slide is slow, her voice catching in her throat in a short whine.

She stops, slumping back in the chair. Her head spins again and she knows it’s too much. She has to do this fast. She can’t reach far enough with her fingers to pull it out fast. She adjusts again ignoring the pain shooting through her side.

She takes a deep breath in, out.

_ Malcolm, Ainsley, Gil. _

Their names become an inner mantra, preparing her for what she’s about to do. No pain will matter if she can get back to them. No pain will matter if she can save them.

_ Malcolm, Ainsley, Gil. _

She leans forwards ignoring the burning in her side. She grabs the knife with her teeth whipping herself back up again. Black spots fill her vision. She breathes heavily, unable to stop the cries from escaping.

_ Malcolm, Ainsley, Gil. _

She moves again, passing herself the knife. She almost cries with relief as she grips the handle and sits up again. For a few horrific seconds her vision goes white, but she fights the pull taking a few steadying breaths. Any pain filling her mind is null. She’s so close, all she has to do is cut herself out. She takes another steadying breath trying to quell the shaking of her hands. She needs to be careful, if she drops it, they’re done for.

She keeps her movements slow, working the tip of the blade under the tie securing her to the arm of the chair. Once it’s safe there she allows herself to speed up. The sawing is tedious but the snap of the restraint is another boost of adrenaline. Freeing her other hand and feet is easy after that. Her pain is inconsequential as she rushes to the boy.

“Don’t move.” Freddy’s eyes snap open again sensing how close she is. She cuts him free and he surges forwards almost knocking her over in a tight hug. She groans in pain but she grips him back. “We have to go.” He nods against her shoulder pulling away. 

She moves as quickly as her injuries allow her to where she assumed the door would be. Her back was turned to the entrance but she can see where the heavy metal leans against the concrete wall. Freddy doesn’t hesitate in pulling the sheet aside. More concrete walls wait on the other side, but at least these have open doorways.

“We have to split up.” Her head snaps to the boy.

“What?” She shakes her head. “No way!” He kneels on the ground shucking the flannel off of his back. He rips the fabric easily, passing her one half.

“If he comes back we need to make sure at least one of us can get to the cops.” He explains while he rips his piece again. “Use that to keep pressure on your side.” Her eyebrows furrow. “My mom’s a trauma surgeon.” He shrugs with a sad smile. “Guess I’ll have to thank her for that now.” He wraps his piece around the wound on her thigh tying it tightly. She groans gripping his shoulder for support. “I know, sorry.” He grabs a metal pole off the ground weighing the object in his hands. “Good luck.”

A knot forms in her throat and all she can do is nod before taking the entrance closest to her. She tries not to think about how that could be the last time she ever sees Freddy. She uses it to push her to move faster instead.

She comes across a staircase, gambling for a moment before ascending. Excitement courses through her when she spies an open window. She turns, ready to shout for Freddy when all of her happiness turns to fear. She hears an angry yell and a crash. Their captor had come back. She vaults through the window without second thought. She stumbles onto the sidewalk, covering her mouth to cover up her shout of pain.

The night of New York bathes her in so much light it hurts. She stops and turns realizing with simultaneous horror and joy that she knows exactly where she is. The building she was trapped in was a construction sight. A promising apartment complex that she was looking to bid on once the construction was complete.

She holds the knife in her hand tighter and hopes against everything that Freddy escaped. Gritting her teeth against the pain she stumbles through the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! Hope y’all are starting off the new year with health and safety for you and your families. Less than 2 weeks away from season 2 and I’m so fucking excited/anxious. Weird note, this chapter is actually the first thing I wrote for the entire story. I had the first part stuck in my head for a little over a month and threw out the concept to my best friend Em. They encouraged me to build the story and so far I’ve been so pleased with it and the reactions y’all have given. Thank you so much for reading and commenting. It really means the world to me.

Three days wears on the psyche, Gil notes in yet another confrontation report. It’d been three days since they’d found the car with Jessica’s phone inside and no sign of her except for her blood on the back window. Malcolm was quickly unraveling, it’s not hard to see. He’d slammed a reporter up against a wall for even suggesting that maybe the world was better off with another Whitly gone. With him visiting Martin the reporter got too close. It didn’t take much more for Malcolm to throw a punch.

He has  _ two  _ of his best cops tailing her children, taking much needed focus away. JT took on Ainsley almost immediately, after her snap with Endicott it’d become an unspoken agreement that she be kept an eye on. He has to bury his feelings every time he sees Malcolm’s hand shake uncontrollably, or when Ainsley comes back from the bathroom with her makeup absolutely perfect but her eyes still red and puffy from the tears she shed in private. It takes all of his power not to go to them and hold them close to his chest.

Every part of him aches.

Two bodies dropped since Jessica’s disappearance. Both had gunshot wounds to the back of the head. Malcolm had made the connection with the information from Martin, thank god. It didn’t take much more to connect the dots after that. They’re lucky Colette even considered it, but they were all desperate. Their time frame was 48 hours. They’re now at 56.

God, where is she?

“Oh my god!” He’s on immediate alert when he hears Ainsley’s scream followed by shouts of other officers. With his hand on his gun he races to where he’d left her and Malcolm earlier.

The room is in absolute chaos, JT is barely holding back Ainsley, her face red while she screams in protest. Several officers have their weapons drawn, Dani included. In the center of it all Malcolm stands with his hands extended, as if reaching for something.

And then he sees her. Her hair is disheveled; dirt and blood are smeared across her face. She’s barefoot, she likely lost her heels long ago. Her once white blouse is also caked in muck and grime. There’s a cloth wrapped around her thigh and one hand is cradling her side. Most startling, though, in her other hand is a knife stained crimson.

“Where is he?” She shouts, her eyes are wild. Gil’s not all that certain she even knows where she is.

“Mom, it’s me.” Malcolm steps a little closer.

“Bright, stand down.” Dani’s voice is a warning.

“It’s ok. She’s not gonna hurt me.” He breathes out slowly, as if trying to calm the entire room at once. “Give me the knife and I’ll find Gil for you. Okay?”

“No!” She springs back and the shouts erupt again.

“Lower your weapons.” Gil barks above the noise. All eyes turn to him, even Jessica’s. They’re reluctant but they obey.

“Mom.” Malcolm steps closer again, drawing her attention back to him. Her face crumples, truly seeing him now for the first time.

“Malcolm.” She sobs, the knife clattering to the floor. She pulls him into a tight hug, her voice barely carrying, “You’re ok. Thank god you’re ok.” 

“I’m ok?” Malcolm chuckles humorlessly. The hug is enough for all of the weight that had been on him to crash all at once. He buries his face into her shoulder his whole frame now shaking with the sorrow he kept so tightly wrapped for days. 

Once the knife is removed and bagged as evidence JT releases Ainsley and she crashes into the hug too. “Ainsley, baby.” Jessica’s voice carries as she recognizes the touch of her daughter. Her crimson stained fingers tangle in the blonde curls. He puts his gun back in his belt allowing himself to relax. He aches to join the embrace. Jessica lifts her chin and meets his eyes feeling his gaze upon them. Her face slackens, and he realizes just how pale she looks.

“Mom?” His heart drops at Ainsley’s tone, the two younger Whitly’s stumbling backwards with sudden weight. He’s on them in seconds, helping to settle Jessica gently onto the ground. The spot where she had been cradling with her free hand was spreading quickly staining her blouse red. In the embrace the cloth the she’d been holding to her fell as well. 

“Call a paramedic.” He orders shucking his coat off to press against the wound. She groans in pain, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, I know.”

“What’s happening?” Malcolm’s arms come around Ainsley, stopping her from coming closer. His hands shake, he’s closed himself off again holding him and his sister together at once. His eyes are glued to his mother, his face as red as Ainsley’s.

“Where is he?” Jessica asks again, this time pleading. His eyes flash to Malcolm, confused. “Please Gil you have to find him. I tried to get him out, I tried.” He shushes her trying to get her to relax.

“Who Jess?” Her fingers grip the front of his sweater, looking around terrified. “Hey, focus. Jess, who do I need to find?” It was too late, however, her eyes slid shut and her body slumped completely against him. He holds his breath until he feels her pulse against his fingertips, strong and steady.

“She just passed out.” Malcolm assures his sister after he likely saw the look of relief cross Gil’s face. The precinct seems to remain still until the paramedics arrive and take her away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“We collected three different sources of blood on Ms. Whitly.” Edrisa remarks, though slowly, her eyes on Malcolm the entire time. She’s worried about him being there, they all are. His insistence was to stay. With Jessica in surgery, it would be a few hours before she was released. “Her own, obviously being the first. But the spots on her face and blouse were of our fourth and fifth victims, Tommy Moore and Andrew Rankin. She was likely sitting in front of them when…”

“What about the knife?” Dani asks, she’s biting the inside of her cheek, almost regretting having to ask the question. Malcolm shifts, Gil knows all too well the scene flashing through his memory.

“The blood on the knife was Ms. Whitly’s. With the help of Dr. Garcia, who is the trauma surgeon who I met in the hospital, we determined a loose thread of events.” She looks to Gil and he nods for her to continue. “We are aware of the wreck, Ms. Whitly was showing signs of a concussion upon arrival at the station and in the hospital when she briefly regained consciousness before being sedated. She likely hit her head off the window during the wreck. This is conducive with the bruising and dried blood on her right temple.” Edrisa turns back to the board she was using to present her information swallowing. 

It wasn’t often that she presented the injuries of a victim who survived but after the events of today he’s exercising caution. He makes a brief note to check on her and maybe buy her lunch for her work. He knows none of this is easy but Edrisa is close to Malcolm. She understands him in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to the rest of them. She deserves to know that she’s appreciated.

“Then there’s the gunshot wound. It was likely received two days ago but opened up again when she escaped.” Gil bites the inside of his cheek thinking privately to himself. She’s lucky she didn’t bleed out. The old stab would on his own abdomen aches with the sympathy of that pain. One he wishes she never knew. “Next we have some yellowed bruising across her cheekbone and under her left eye. It suggests that she was hit. With the scrape on her cheek I would assume the perpetrator wore a ring when doing so.” She checks her notes again adjusting the glasses that slid down the bridge of her nose. “The large bruise on her forehead suggests that she hit her attacker. With her wrists and legs bound I would assume she headbutt him.”

Malcolm’s laugh catches them all by surprise. He shouldn’t get as much glee out of the moment as he does; but imagining prim and proper Jessica Whitly slamming her head against her captor is more satisfying than anything. “Sorry.” He mutters muffling a further laugh with his palm.

Edrisa relaxes slightly at that. “Finally we have the wound in her leg. She was stabbed, obviously. But the wound pattern along with some small cuts on her wrist suggest that she pulled it out herself.”

“She saw her opportunity. Her captor left the knife and she cut the ties around her wrists and ankles to escape.” Malcolm nods in agreement with Edrisa’s assessment.

“Holy shit.” JT mutters. “How the hell did she get back here without anyone taking her to the hospital or calling the cops?”

“That we won’t know. The doctors have my mother under sedation, for now. She’s undergoing her second surgery now, she’s severely dehydrated, and was delirious when she woke up in the hospital.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Ainsley?” Dani asks slowly. “Your mom needs you.”

“My mother needs me to find who did this to her before he strikes again.” Malcolm snaps. Dani grits her teeth but nods.

“What about the guy Ms. Whitly was talking about before she lost consciousness?” JT shifts, eyes combing over the file in front of him. “Do we have any idea who it could be?”

“We can only assume it is another missing person. Until she’s coherent enough to talk to us, we won’t know for certainty. Until we find the guys we are looking for I want detail on all of the Whitly’s until further notice. With her reaction earlier we can only assume that Malcolm and Ainsley were the next targets if Jess didn’t participate in what the killers wanted.” He turns to Edrisa, “Thank you Dr. Tanaka. Keep us updated if Dr. Garcia contacts you with any more information.”

“Yes sir.”

“Colette and her team are canvassing the area now. She couldn’t have made it far without being noticed by a concerned stranger. Dani, I want you and JT looking through missing persons. See if there’s any new disappearances that could be our missing man.”

“What do you want me to do?” Malcolm sits up straight, alert.

“We’re going back to the hospital.” He holds up his hand when Malcolm stammers to protest. “Ainsley needs you right now, more than anything. Not to mention once your mother wakes up she’ll need a face she can trust. Something scared her into coming here with a knife. I have a bad feeling.” Malcolm nods in agreement, though he still doesn’t look too pleased with the information.

He can’t shake the feeling in his gut that they’re missing some key information. He only hopes that Jessica will wake and tell them before it is too late.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a little more toned down than usual but don’t worry, this isn’t the end. This is only a bridge to act 2. My best friend and I have come up with a handful of devious ideas to still throw into the mix. I’m super excited to jump into the next portion and even more so by Prodigal Son returning in less than a week. Let me know what y’all think!!

“It doesn’t make sense.” Gil moves his gaze from Jessica in her hospital bed to Malcolm, pacing across the small room. Ainsley sits on the chair, eyes trained on mother and chewing on her nail but she nods almost absentmindedly at his statement. He’s been on this rant for an hour. Each second he grows more agitated. “When she came in she was angry Gil. Ask Ainsley, she was screaming ‘where is he’ and waving the knife.”

The unspoken sentence lingers between the siblings with a single gaze. I’ve never seen her like that. It’s not a shock, Jessica composed her anger around them, he remembers one instance. Where a poor reporter thought that ambushing her for an exclusive was a good idea. All while he had taken them out one lonely Christmas only 2 years after Martin’s imprisonment. She’d been icely polite until the man turned to Malcolm, asking him how he felt. Still her smile remained, at least until Gil coaxed the children away with the promise of hot chocolate and sweets. 

That night she looked lighter than she had in months.

“She didn’t see me.” Malcolm admits, maybe for the first time with the fear threaded in his voice. Ainsley’s eyes flash to him, concern twisting her brows. Gil knows that sight will haunt his nightmares for a while. “It wasn’t hallucinations. She knew where she was.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But she sidestepped the divet in the tile that she almost twisted her ankle on last month.” Malcolm rakes both hands through his hair in frustration. “She knew she was at the precinct.”

“What about when she collapsed?” Gil speaks up now. “She begged me to find ‘him’ and said she got him out.” Malcolm pivots again, his pace picking up as his mind races. “She had to be talking about another victim.”

Ainsley’s breath catches then, a light flashing in her head. “What if she was talking about two different people?”

Malcolm gapes, Gil sees him swallow the lump that formed in his throat. “You think she saw the killers?” She nods turning back to Jessica. She takes her mother’s hand pressing her lips to her knuckles.

It’d been hours since the surgeries. The surgeons had successfully removed the bullet from her abdomen but infection was their main concern. The warnings of the extent of brain injury lingers on all of their minds. They won’t know more until she wakes. 

If she wakes.

Gil shakes his head at the thought. He won’t allow himself to think like that yet. Not with Malcolm and Ainsley in the same room, minds haunted all the same. “You two, go get food.” They both protest but he shuts them down with a single look. “Get me-”

“Black coffee.” The two nod in unison bringing a small smile to his lips. As they leave Gil allows the events to weigh on him. He runs his thumb across her scraped jaw biting the inside of his cheek. “Come on Jess.” He whispers into the room. “You gotta help us now. We can’t do this without you.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The incessant beeping is what pulls Jessica above the surface again. The first thing she realizes is that she feels very heavy. Her eyes don’t want to open, distantly she hears Gil’s voice calling to her.

It comes back all at once. Her escape, Freddy, collapsing into Gil’s arms. She hums, testing her voice. It aches and makes her feel like she needs to cough but she feels it rumble in her chest. Finally, her eyes open. It hurts like hell, blinking the dimmed room into focus. He leans over her, a smile on his face.

“Hey Jess.” He looks to the door. A thought crosses his mind before turning back to her. “Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital.” Detest laces her tone even through her slurred speech. She hated hospitals as a kid, then Martin came into her life. She grew an appreciation, and then hated them again in a twisted cycle. She cranes her head searching the room, “Where?”

“Ainsley and Malcolm went to get food. They’ve got Dani and JT with them as details.” She relaxes, tempted to fall back into the darkness knowing they are safe. “Do you want me to call them?”

She shakes her head, knowing Malcolm he’s been working for days straight, hardly a meal in between. If he’s getting food, then he needs to eat. “How long have I been out?”

“About 9 hours.”

“That’s the most I’ve slept in 20 years.” She jokes. The fogginess clears a little and she remembers. “Freddy.” She turns to Gil who immediately puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Hey easy.” His eyes jump to the heart monitor, the beeping increasing significantly. “Take it easy Jess. Is Freddy who you were trying to tell me about?”

She nods frantically. “I woke up and he was there. I cut us both out but he wanted to split up.” Guilt punches her in the chest. “We split up. I didn’t want to but he said it was our best chance. I heard a man scream and I ran.” The air feels too thin suddenly and the beeping just keeps getting louder.

“Jessica, look at me.” Her jaw snaps shut and she does. “Breathe with me.” He takes a deep breath in. She would laugh if panic wasn’t gripping her ribcage painfully. “Remember?” She nods slightly following his steps.

Panic attacks had become a frequency after Martin. Gil had found her stuck in the middle of them more than she cares to admit. She holds her breath, her head swimming. Letting it out ebbs the panic though the guilt still gnaws painfully. 

“Do you know where they held you? Do you remember?”

“Beverly Construction. The apartment complex being built, the one I was telling you about that I was thinking of bidding on.”

“Good.” He runs his thumb over her knuckles. “Do you remember anything else?”

“Yes.” She opens her mouth but the thoughts won’t piece together. There are images in her head but none of them make sense. The wreck, glass flying everywhere and the smell of smoke burning her nose. The darkness before being overwhelmed by white light. The glint of the knife reflecting her terrified gaze back at her.

“It’s ok. You’re still coming out of sedation. It may take a while.” She wants to cry. She knows she saw more. She knows more. “I’ll text Colette and her men will scan the construction site. They may not be there anymore but they may have left something behind.” She wishes it was enough.

“Mom?” Ainsley’s voice makes her head whip to the door. Her daughter’s lower lip trembles, “Mom?” In three steps she’s to her bed, the box of food thrown carelessly into the chair as she kneels by her side. Jessica tries to reach out to her but her arm only flips, the meds still battling her every effort to stay awake. Ainsley grabs her hand guiding it to her cheek so that Jessica’s fingers tangle into the blonde curls.

“Mom.” Malcolm’s whisper is almost immediately after Ainsley’s. Gil scoots aside allowing him room. He takes the food and coffee out of her son’s hands before they can slip to the floor in his rush to get to her. He mimics Ainsley’s actions but pulls her other hand to his lips, she feels his smile on the back of her hand. Tears of relief sting her eyes. 

“Hi.” She smiles at them both, her fingers brushing their skin. They’re safe, they’re here with her. She did it, she made it back to her family. She wipes away Malcolm’s tears as they come down his face despite his careful control. Ainsley tips first burying her head into her shoulder. Her hand is pinned, caught in her daughters grasp but she can’t bring herself to care.

Over their shoulders she spies Gil. With one look he comes closer, with one hand on Malcolm’s shoulders and the other on her head he joins the family embrace. Her guilt still weighs on her. She’s missing something, something important is gone.

Right now, though, her family is enough. They are enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with another update cause I had to get this chapter down before it left my head. Honestly Em is a hero for giving me this idea bc I had stalled on the fic after Jessica’s escape. But because of their help I actually know a lot more than I even knew in the LAST CHAPTER much less as a whole. Loving the comments so ofc keep them coming cause i need validation.

The process of healing is frustratingly slow and Jessica finds herself lost in the cycle of sleeping, being questioned by officers, seeing Ainsley and occasionally Malcolm, and sleeping again. It’s a small comfort knowing that Malcolm, in all his determination is searching for the man behind all of this. Most of her though just wants him in the room with her, knowing he is safe.

The most frustrating, to her and investigators alike were her memories. She remembers the big picture. There was a wreck while she was traveling to a meeting for Eve’s charity. With the woman gone Jessica had preserved her legacy the best she could. The crash was unexpected. She’d checked Alphonso from the back seat already knowing he was dead. Two paramedics pulled her out of the car, put some kind of oxygen mask on her and she was out. Next came where it blurred. She was held in the dark by two men and they asked her to pick between her life or a stranger’s. No matter how many times she picked herself the other person would die. She was shot first, and then stabbed later.

She didn’t remember other conversations. Colette Swanson was the one to report to her what they found at the construction site. They found the room she was held in, two chairs bolted to the floor facing each other. They found the trail of blood where she had escaped. They found a young man matching the surveillance footage of the paramedic they’d found the day of the wreck. He was beaten to death, likely by his partner though the FBI agent didn’t expand on why.

She’s not shocked. Part of her knew this already.

What tears at her was they found no trace of the other killer nor Freddy in the vicinity. Gil tells her that no trace of blood should be a good thing.

It doesn’t feel like a good thing.

“Ms. Whitly.” She picks her head up from the spot she was staring at, smiling kindly at the doctor.

“Dr. Garcia, I hope you’re not planning to wheel me back for another surgery. Ainsley is getting off soon and she’s bringing Vionelli’s.” The surgeon chuckles warmly shaking her head. In the week she’s been stuck in the hospital Dr. Garcia had been a welcoming bright spot in her boring or traumatizing days. The day she chased away an officer who was getting a little too aggressive while questioning and insisting that she remembered. Waving a clipboard and getting in the face of an armed man, it was a sight that made her laugh no matter how much it hurt her side.

“Actually, I wanted to be the one to tell you that it’s looking like you could go home today.”

“Today?” She sits up a little, newfound energy overpowering the shot of pain that goes through her side at the movement.

“Your infection has cleared up and all of your baselines came through clear. Now you’ll come back in a week to remove the stitches and I want you taking it easy when walking. We’re going to send you home in a wheelchair.” Jessica must have made a face because the doctor gets serious, “I expect you to use it Ms. Whitly. Your physical therapy will be easier if you don’t push yourself too much. No alcohol or other supplements until you finish out your medication.” Jessica hesitates but nods. Anything that can get her past this as soon as possible she’ll agree to. “Well, in that case you might want to tell your daughter to bring a  _ loose  _ set of clothes and I’ll tell the nurses to get the paperwork drawn up.”

“Dr. Garcia?” Her question evades her as soon as she asks. Past conversations echo instead,  _ The knife was two centimeters from nicking the femoral artery. The gunshot wound had been infected, but we caught it early. Your memory will return in time, it’s expected with the combination of anesthesia and your head injury _ . Yet, not once had the woman made the claim other doctors had. The one that she told herself,  _ you got lucky _ . “Thank you.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After the text it’s Ainsley, Malcolm,  _ and _ Gil who come to escort her home. It feels like a bittersweet celebration. None of them will let her stay alone, despite her protests and the 3 details they set up along the house. All help is dismissed until further notice, and her home has already been searched five times for any possible cameras or bugs hidden. Gil tried to insist her stay with her but couldn’t fight more when she pointed out that she’d get around easier in her own home than his small apartment.

They celebrate with Vionelli’s, as promised, and sitting at her own table with her family surrounding her almost feels normal. She longs for a drink but her children made sure that all alcohol was removed from the home the second they were told she could come home. For a few split seconds she allows herself to believe this is a normal day. That she doesn’t ache all over, that there aren't several patrols outside guarding each exit of her home, that she doesn’t have the details of 3 days blurred as if she’d taken a few too many pills.

Despite her protests the three of them create a system. Malcolm will stay with her tonight, Gil’s insistence as he hadn’t slept much in 3 days. Gil will switch him tomorrow, Ainsley after that. Even though she tried to deny their pushes, she’s secretly glad to have one of them with her. At least she can be assured one of them is safe at all times. 

Much to her dread, Gil and Ainsley eventually leave. They linger longer than they should. None of them really tired enough to stave off their personal demons from the night. Gil gives in when Colette calls, Ainsley long after he is gone but her own detail looks tired and she shouldn’t probably get home.

Jessica makes her way back to her own bedroom. The clothes Ainsley brought are comfortable enough that she can just slide right into bed. Her medicine is slowly dragging her under and she’s grateful for the peace that the familiar setting brings.

“Goodnight mom,” Malcolm smiles at her, the expression not quite matching the worry in his eyes.

“Love you Sunshine.” She says as gently as she can, inordinately calm against the threat of sleep. Her nightmares are no stranger to her. The nickname helps as she watches him relax, even if only slightly.

“Love you too.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jessica wakes again with a gasp sitting up in bed, the pain that echoes through her abdomen making her regret the movement. The nightmare already faded from her as she settles back hissing through her teeth. She squints at her phone laying on her nightstand.

_ 4:26 A.M. _

She huffs covering her eyes. She can feel the beginnings of her medicine wearing off. She’s surprised Malcolm hadn’t woken her simply to take some. She peers through the dark spying her son curled in the chair in the corner of her room. He must have fallen asleep there after working on the case for most of the night.

Her chest aches remembering how after Martin she’d find him sleeping almost anywhere but his bed. That chair, specifically, was his favorite place to curl up. A flashlight and book lying abandoned on the floor by his feet.

She experimentally sits up again, slower this time. The pain is much more manageable in the slow, precise movements. As her eyes adjust to the dark she sees a cup sitting on her nightstand along with the bottles of medicine she’s supposed to take. Lying by the glass is a small card, a note hastily written.

_ Just like you like _ .

Her chest warms looking over at Malcolm again. The glass is still hot, he couldn’t have prepared it long ago. She tusks but slides the note in her drawer, standing. She suppresses the groan at the ache in her leg, not wanting to wake him when he’d clearly just managed to fall asleep. She grabs the spare blanket draped across the bottom of her bed and covers him. Even in his sleep he looks like he carries the whole world on his shoulders. Grabbing her tea and medicine she exits her bedroom.

She’s not sure exactly where she intended on going. The restlessness is enough to make her wander through the home on a good night. This, this is something else. A sense of dread that can’t seem to leave her chest.

She takes a sip of the tea enjoying the warmth that spreads across her. Her peace is only momentary though.

The tea doesn’t taste like what she drinks.

The taste brings her back twenty years. To Christmas morning with two children bouncing onto her bed excitedly screaming about Santa. To a golden tray loaded up with her favorites. To breakfast in bed. To the tea Martin had prepared for her.

Malcolm didn’t make this.

Panic fills her as she pushes herself through the home, steadying herself on the walls. She bursts into the dining room, looking for the bar cart.

She hears Malcolm screaming in her head.

_ Don’t drop the cup, it could be evidence. _

She needs a drink

_ You’re not supposed to drink on your medication. _

She doesn’t care. Not when she can’t get the taste out of her mouth.

_ Mother! _

The cart is empty. Of course it is. Ainsley herself cleared it out. She has a stash in the kitchen. One she hadn’t touched since Malcolm’s months of silence. One only she knew about.

She grits her teeth using the table as a brace as her leg screams against the rush. She can’t think. Not when the memories are too loud. The good times taste like poison under his gaze, his touch.

She flicks on the light stopping dead in her path at the sight of a figure seated at the island, facing her. The glass slips from her hands spilling across the tile and scattering shards everywhere.

Freddy stares emptily at her. His skin is all too pale. A sharp cut against his throat and blood spilled all over his clothes. They’re the same clothes he’d been wearing when she saw him last. The eyes that had been so kind to her are frozen in choking horror. He probably couldn’t even scream.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shattering glass startles Malcolm awake. He's up and aware in a matter of seconds. The bed his mother had fallen asleep in is empty, the medicine he’d left on her nightstand is gone too. He tries to rationalize with himself. She likely woke from a nightmare. Went to look for a drink. He doesn’t need to jump to conclusions.

Her scream sends ice through his veins. He’s taking off after that, ignoring the soreness in his joints from the position he’d slept in.

He never should have let himself fall asleep.

He was supposed to be guarding her.

Now she’s-

“Mom!” He calls out to her. Her screams seem to echo off the walls. He suddenly feels too small, a child searching helplessly for his mother in a crowd of ghosts. “Mom!” He’s closer. She’s still screaming.

He rounds the kitchen to a sight that turns his stomach. His investigative sense tells him to preserve the scene, call 911. But his mother is backed up against the wall, eyes glued to the body meant just for her. He doesn’t give a damn about the glass the cuts his feet to get to her. He lifts her by the elbows pulling her back into the dining room.

“Freddy. It’s Freddy.” She sobs before collapsing on his shoulder.

In that moment, Malcolm freezes. Twenty years, not once did she cry for Martin. Not once did she cry for her family that had been burned up and destroyed. She didn’t cry when he moved away, not when he woke up after being taken by the Junkyard Killer, not when Ainsley confessed to her that she killed Endicott. But she’s clinging to him like her life depends on it, and she’s crying.

All he can do is hold onto her and text Gil.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next update, not gonna lie this one was a little slow going because I didn’t really know what I was going with here but thankfully I have the best co-plotter in the world and Em helped break me out of my stump. Hopefully I can work out some way to keep chapters rolling because I actually head back to school in a week. As always, all comments are loved and appreciated!!

The call came in around 5 AM. Gil was startled awake by the sound of his ringtone. His heart thumps painfully in his chest when he sees the missed texts from Malcolm. He’s wide awake when he answers.

“Malcolm? Are you both ok?”

“We’re fine.” The boy’s voice is thin, drained. The words don’t bring any sense of relief, there’s a second meaning behind them.  _ Physically.  _ “There’s another body. Mom found it in the kitchen almost half an hour ago. Agent Swanson and Edrisa are on their way now.”

“Is she alright?” He can hear Malcolm swallow. Contemplating the answer and Gil knows. All those years that she’d hid everything she was feeling from her kids, all of it went to hell the moment she found the body.

“It was Freddy.”

His eyes close in remorse for the stranger. The man had helped Jessica escape, it likely cost him his life. “Fuck.” The word slips out, truthfully but he hears the humorless chuckle from the other end.

“That’s what I said.”

“Where is she at now?”

“In the other room with Ainsley. It was bad. I’d never-”

“She never let you see that side. Neither of you.” Gil, however, had seen it all. When the children were safely asleep he’d hold her until she cried herself to sleep. When they were at school he kept her company so the empty house didn’t swallow her whole. He even went as far as to limit the bottles that she kept in the home at certain points, especially around anniversaries.

Her wedding anniversary was the worst.

“I’m on my way now.” It wasn’t hard, he’d fallen asleep in the same clothes he’d come home in minus his coat and shoes. The exhaustion had worn on him enough that once he hit his bed he was out.

Out enough to miss those damn texts.

He shakes his head. “Make sure everything in the scene is the same. If anything even feels slightly off balance in there I want you to mark it. It’ll be hard but ask your mother if she saw anything at all. If she heard something that startled her awake, anything. We’re going to catch this guy.”

“I know.” Again, the words are distant. The question lingers bitterly in the silence.

_ But will it be too late? _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He arrives at the home soon after, blue and red light his way up the driveway. Emergencies beat him there, he spies Agent Swanson’s car as well. He’ll catch up with her after he talks to Malcolm and hopefully Jess. 

The air feels chillier as he steps out, a sense of dread holds the chatter to a still. There will be no excited banter between Malcolm and Edrisa. No sarcastic commentary from JT or side discussions with Dani. Eyes fall on the sidewalk as he passes. His steps echo on the concrete, his mind racing as he steps inside the warmth of the home.

“I want to know how a  _ serial killer carrying a fucking body  _ got past  _ three  _ cops! One of which is a fucking FBI agent!” He hears Ainsley shouting as soon as he enters. He follows her voice rounding the corner to see her still in her pajamas and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers absolutely laying into an officer. “How does that just happen? I don’t understand!” Even in the ridiculous pjs she holds the same command that she does as a reporter, intimidating and driven to have every answer.

“Ainsley.” She looks up at his voice. Her eyes give away everything, the fear hidden behind them is blatant, he assumes that’s exactly why the officer looked unfazed. She comes over and he can see she got little sleep. The dark circles under her eyes showcase her troubles, alone.

“Thank god you’re here.” She whispers, pulling him into a short hug. He feels everything that he was thinking in that embrace. The guilt for leaving earlier that night, despite their agreement. The house was way too big, too many extra bedrooms for them to have gone home. Maybe then, one of them two would’ve seen something.

“Where’s Jess?” He asks once she pulls away. Ainsley’s gaze softens slightly at the nickname before wordlessly guiding him through the halls. The path to Jessica’s bedroom is a familiar one. 

The sight though, less so.

Malcolm sits in the chair staring blankly at the floor. His foot bounces at a rate that gives away his desire to investigate, but his reluctance to leave his mother alone. When he spies their movement it’s enough for him to pop up out of his seat, ready to join Edrisa in the kitchen.

Jessica sits on the edge of her bed. Hands clenched together and all too aware of the amount of people currently in her home. She relaxes, only a little at the sight of them.

“Gil.” She breathes, he smiles sadly at her. “Malcolm, go. You’ve been staring at the door for 15 minutes.” He doesn’t argue, but places a comforting hand on her shoulder as he passes. Ainsley lingers in the door behind him, eyes glued to the carpet.

“I’ll go talk to Dani.” She sighs, it’s clear she wants to help more but she knows more than Malcolm that Jessica is putting up a front for the two of them. Gil won’t get much out of her when her daughter is lingering in the room. She hardly cracked in front of them after Martin, she’d be damned if this bastard made her break in front of them again.

Right on cue as the door shuts behind her, Jessica is on her feet pacing across the room. “Gil,” She sighs, running her hands over her face and through her hair.

“Jess, you shouldn’t be moving around so much.” She shoots him a wide eyed look, as if challenging him to stop her. He frowns but doesn’t bring it up again.

“How, I don’t understand.” Her voice catches in her throat, threatening to tear away. “He was in my home.  _ My home. _ ” Her fingers twitch, a tell tale sign that she wishes she could reach for the nearest bottle and pour herself a glass. Or reach for pills. Anything to quell her rising panic.

“Hey-”

“Don’t.” She spins around, faster than she should. He can see the pain resonate through her face the second she does. “Don’t you dare tell me that it’s ok.”

“Jessica.”

“He was  _ in here.  _ He was in the room with  _ my son. _ ” His eyes widen, he hadn’t been told that when he was briefed on the drive over. The way she’s shaking he’s certain she mentioned anything to anyone else either. The thought alone sends a bolt of anxiety through his stomach. “There was a cup of tea on my nightstand. I thought Malcolm made it before he fell asleep in the chair but-”

“But what?”

“Malcolm said he fell asleep an hour before I woke up.” Her hands knot together, trying to stop the shaking. He goes to her, taking her hands in his slowly giving her more than enough time to pull away if that’s what she wanted. “I don’t know what to do.” She whispers the confession. Her eyes shine with unshed tears and she bites her lower lip to keep them under control.

“Stay with me.”

“What?” She blinks rapidly, caught off guard by his words.

“I want you to stay with me. My apartment has one entrance and the fire escape. Less murder tunnels, and quite frankly, I want you as close to me as possible.”

“But Malcolm and Ainsley-”

“They can stay if they’d like too. Hell, I’d be shocked if they didn’t.” His eyes trace over her. The bruises are finally beginning to fade but the scratches still mar her normally smooth skin. With him, he can make sure she heals properly. “I’ll keep you safe.” He promises and he holds his breath. Not once in twenty years did she even entertain the idea of staying somewhere other than her home. Even with the threats of numerous killers, discoveries of tunnels leading to god knows where in her basement, and the blood shed it held more value in the good memories than the bad. He expects her to reject him again.

“Okay.” She whispers with a short nod.

“You will?”

“It’s closer to Malcolm’s and I’ll have Ainsley stay with him until you catch him. I want everyone close.”

“I am still convinced both of them are going to be sharing the couch for the next few days.”

“Even better.” He chuckles at her attempt at a joke. She doesn’t loosen but he can see the relief in her eyes, he doesn’t imagine he could get herself to fall asleep in this room again. At least not for a while.

“Pack up your stuff. After I finish up here we can go back. I’ll make you breakfast and we can sleep in.”

“Oh now you’re just spoiling me.” She squeezes his hand with a small, reluctant smile. “Thank you.” 

“No need to thank me.” He places a soft kiss on the back of her hand and leaves the room, ready to dive back into the case. His mind is cleared knowing that Jessica is safe and will be coming home with him rather than staying in a house that has far too many secrets for his own comfort.

He didn’t even see her grab the note from the nightsand and slip it into her shirt pocket.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I have been SO EXCITED for this chapter. BIG praise to Em who helped me get through little hooks and finding Martin’s voice. Honestly they are crazy talented and have such a grasp for his tone and movements they’re such a big help to me and I love my best friend so damn much ok. This is the longest chapter yet bc I wanted these two scenes to play out at about the same time. Honestly, I'm so happy with the result and I hope y'all are too.
> 
> Anyways!! I wanted to send this out after tonight’s ep but I have yet to watch it. I was out with my sister helping her get over a sad spell so I unfortunately missed it live and won’t be able to watch until tomorrow so I would love to avoid spoilers. Thank y’all so much!! Hope y’all enjoy the update!

Gil opens the door to the morgue, Edrisa looks up from the body with a small nod but her normal smile isn’t quite there. Malcolm stands beside her shifting from side to side. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. JT lingers in the corner of the room, jaw set. “Ready?”

This presentation feels heavier than most. It doesn’t help either he or Malcolm that they both had to reluctantly leave the apartment so early in the morning. Ainsley remained behind, having called in a few favors to work from his place at least until the case was solved. Still, he worries. They both do.

“Yes,” Edrisa breathes, settling into the motions. “Cause of death was the slit throat. There were traces of tranquilizer in the victim, that might be how he was transferred from place to place. The state of the body suggests he’s been dead for a day.”

“He was alive an entire week. Our killer waited. He waited until mother was out of the hospital.” He’s already agitated, it’s not good.

“He wasn’t killed in Mrs. Whitly’s home. He was transported post mortem.”

“We can assume our killer has completely unraveled. This kill goes completely off M.O.”

“He’s desperate.” Gil agrees. 

“Has she remembered anything yet?” Gil turns to where JT is standing.

“No.” Malcolm sighs, “She’s going through dissociative amnesia. Ainsley did after…” He gestures, it’s enough for them to understand. “Honestly, I hope she doesn’t.”

“You do?” The question isn’t meant as a harm but he sees Malcolm flinch. There’s a flash of guilt on JT’s face but Malcolm waves him off before he can apologize.

“From an investigative standing? I would. It would certainly help narrow it down.” He shakes his head, like trying to rid of a thought that was too much even for him. “But after Ainsley remembered? She completely shut down. She looked right past us and it tore my mother up.” Gil remembers that. The blank stare lasted for hours before she finally broke down. It was Jessica who finally got her out of it, playing with her hair and singing her a lullaby. “I don’t want that for her.”

Edrisa places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and to Malcolm’s credit rather than flinching away he subtly leans into the touch.

“Did we find out any more about Freddy?” The question seems to bring a new heaviness to the room. Edrisa and Malcolm share a look, one that tells they know something that hasn’t been spoken quite yet.

“We found an ID card on the inside of his jacket.” Edrisa grabs a baggie with the ID badge inside passing it to Gil. “He was a student volunteer at Claremont Psychiatric.”

“Claremont? You think-”

“We don’t know if he has any connection to the surgeon.” Malcolm’s eyes fall to the body. “But I’ve seen him around. It was only in passing but he was nice. Always smiled when I passed.”

“Does Jess know?”

“No. But it gets worse.”

“Worse?” Malcolm bobs his head before straightening, trying to summon every ounce of professionalism he has to ignore the warring feelings.

“Freddy’s full name is Francisco Garcia. When mom was delivering her statement to the police she said Freddy helped tie the tourniquet on her leg. That his mom is a trauma surgeon.” Gil’s face sinks, coming to the same conclusion. Jessica’s doctor that had been helping in the investigation, Dr. Garcia. “Agent Swanson is on her way to the hospital to confirm our findings. But we’re almost certain it’s Dr. Garcia’s son.”

“Did she know he was missing?”

“My guess? No. He was a med student and a volunteer. He probably went weeks at a time without checking in.” Gil runs a hand through his beard. Even thinking about telling Jessica was ripping him apart. She’d connected well with her doctor, it helped that she was a friendly woman. But Jessica will want to help with funeral expenses, help the family financially for whatever they need. There’s no way he can get past telling her.

A ringtone startles them out of the somber silence. Malcolm reaches into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing when he reads the caller ID. “Ains?” His anxious movements stop as his eyes meet Gil’s “What’s wrong?” He can barely make out the sound of crying coming from the phone “What do you mean she’s gone?” Gil sucks in a breath. Gone could mean too many things. “It’s ok. Is her phone still there?” He waits with a fearful beat. “That’s good. She might have left on her own. I’m going to go see if I can track her phone. Have Dani drive you here and we’ll find her ok?”

Malcolm hangs up and he looks ready to throw something. It’s Edrisa who slips the phone out of his hand before he decides to do just that. He clenches his hand taking a deep breath before speaking.

“My mother is gone.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jessica’s eyes open to the sound of her phone chiming followed shortly by the sound of the front door shutting. From the light pouring into the bedroom she would guess its at least the afternoon. Sleeping in Gil’s bed made it easier to chase away the nightmares and if she did wake up his presence was enough to soothe her. Listening to his slow breathing lulled her back to sleep eventually, too exhausted for another nightmare.

She picks up her phone, squinting as the light hits her face.

_ Work emergency. Will be back soon, order takeout and have them give it to George. _

So it was Ainsley she heard leaving. She sits up carefully pulling her hair up out of her face. Her phone chimes again

_ And don’t leave!! _

She bites her tongue staring at her bags in the corner of the room. Gil and Malcolm carried all that she’d need for the stay for at least a week. The memories of last night hang over her head precariously, like a rope ready to snap.

She takes her medicine with the glass of water on the nightstand.

Her eyes fall on the shirt from last night. Gil had her change when they arrived and, truthfully, it helped her feel lighter. Yet the note in the pocket still weighs on the back of her mind. There was only one possible way he’d know how she took her tea. It was such a small detail even Malcolm, at his age, wouldn’t remember much less Ainsley. She’d stopped drinking tea for a while after his arrest. It took her years before she found a blend she liked again.

Nobody should know that.

And yet.

Jessica rubs her eyes, dread threatening to push her down into the covers where it was safe and warm again. The thoughts taste foul as she files through. She needs to go see Martin, he’s the only one with the answers. If Gil knew there would be no chance he’d let her go anywhere near Claremont, for perfectly good reasons. Hell, if Malcolm and Ainsley knew they wouldn’t let her out of her sight. Ainsley will only be gone for a short bit, if her texts are accurate.

Now is her only chance.

Getting dressed takes slower than she’s happy with. The pull makes her breath catch in her throat more than a few times. She eyes the wheelchair next to the bed for a moment. She knows the doctor’s order, but around Martin showing weakness at all is a loss. It gives him control of the conversation.

Giving him any sort of control is the  _ last _ thing she wanted.

She gathers herself, dressed as she normally would. She uses makeup to cover what she can. However some of the scrapes are still so sore that she doesn’t bother. She grabs the note, giving herself a few beats to change her mind and stay. Finally, when she deems herself ready she sweeps out into the living room, opening the front door doing her best annoyed mother tone.

Her eyes settle on the officer patrolling, ready to put on the performance of her life. “Will you drive me to Claremont? My son  _ insists _ that I shouldn’t be left alone and he’s visiting his father.”

“Sure thing Mrs. Whitly.” The officer, George, grins at her.

“Wonderful.”

The ride there is silent. She practices what she will say in her head over and over. Not that any amount of practice will prepare her to speak to Martin again. It only gets worse as she’s escorted through the halls. She can feel his presence long before she reaches his cell; it’s choking, a cavern that threatens to swallow her and her entire family whole.

“Jessica!” He gasps as she steps in, like he hadn’t known she’d be coming. The shock doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mr. David didn’t mention you’d be visiting today. I’ve got to say, you’ve looked better.” He gestures vaguely, talking about the scratches on her that she couldn’t cover with makeup. She’s just thankful that she could cover the bruises. “I thought for sure that our children, Malcolm especially, would have you on lockdown. Though, I suppose that never stopped you before.”

She bites the remark that’s on the tip of her tongue. If she wants answers she’ll have to appeal to him. “Malcolm is on the case, Ainsley had some kind work emergency and had to leave.”

He tuts, tilting his head. “Sneaking out? Giving them a taste of their own medicine, huh?” He straightens, narrowing his eyes oh so slightly. “Now don’t tell me you visited just to chat. Not that I’m complaining but come on, I would have put on my good cardigan.”

“No.” He purses his lips at her rejection, but doesn’t interrupt. “Last night there was a body in the kitchen-”

“Someone broke into our home?”  _ My home.  _ She aches for the rebuttal but the answers are too important and she doesn’t have enough time before Ainsley realizes she isn’t there. She will text Malcolm and he’ll no doubt pull every resource he has to find her here, of all places. So she sets her jaw.

“There was a note on my nightstand when I woke up next to a cup of tea that said, just how you like it.” His brows furrow before an understanding washes over him. She thinks, just for a moment.

“Classic stalker behavior.” He shrugs. “Who knows how long he’s been watching you.” She swallows, the thought making her heart freeze. His aloof behavior is betrayed by the years of visits between him and their son. He knows. “And where was the Lieutenant?”

The question scratches her world to a deadly halt. All of the anger at what had happened; the days she was trapped, the injustice of Freddy’s death, her family being threatened. All of it topples over with the words he meant as a knife to her most cherished relationship other than her children.

“Wouldn’t he be there to protect you?”

“Malcolm was.” Darkness washes over him and she watches all the fake humanity drain from his eyes. Barely contained rage makes the room feel colder. She doesn’t allow herself the step backwards that would make her feel more comfortable. “Malcolm was asleep in the chair in the corner of the room.”

“Malcolm was there?”

“Of course he was there! You know Malcolm! He wouldn’t fucking leave let alone sleep in a different room!” She lets out a shuddering breath. “He wouldn’t- he can’t-” Her words jumble and anger is making her shake painfully. Her core aches and she is almost certain if she doesn’t calm down she’ll accidentally pull stitches. “He was in my home. He was in the  _ goddamn kitchen _ . He was in my room where we were sleeping!” Martin tilts his head, it’s the disapproving tilt. One that she’s seen hundreds of times when a curse slipped out in front of Malcolm or Ainsley when they were so young. He always hated when she cussed. “Malcolm, god he was so tired he didn’t even stir when I woke up.” She can feel the tears coming down but she’s hopeless to stop them now. She’s in an absolute spiral. “God knows how long he was there. How many times he walked past Malcolm. It could’ve been Malcolm.”

The last words are an almost incoherent sob. She had come here, every intention of holding her ground. And here she is having a fucking panic attack in front of her serial killer ex husband. A bitter laugh escapes her.

“It could’ve been Malcolm.” She repeats. “And every time I remember I don’t see that poor boy’s face. I see Malcolm’s.  _ Our son. _ ”

A hand reaches out stroking the tears from her cheek. It takes her far too long to connect the touch to Martin. “Jessie-”

She rips herself away the second her mind connects the dots. The sudden movement causes a new wave of pain. She curses again leaning against the furthest wall to regain her self control. “Stop!” She shouts, getting the attention of Mr. David. “Stop acting like you fucking care.” It hurts too much. She feels like she’s going to stop breathing at any second. When he looks at her with that much sympathy it’s too much. It reminds her of being hunched in the bathroom, morning sickness taking a toll on her. He stayed with her, holding her hair. That sympathy is not only fake, it’s toxic. Another way to gain control.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She snaps. “You  _ know _ . You know who it is and you let us be hurt by him. What did you do Martin? What the fuck did you do?” The room holds impossibly still for what feels like an eternity. He heaves a sigh, defeated.

“Lieutenant Arroyo wasn’t the first to catch me.” The words stop her in her tracks. She watches him warily, not trusting a single word he says. “I never met him, but I received a call, a year or two before.” Her stomach sinks, the year or two before was when she’d noticed his growing absence. “He had connected me to a missing woman, able to pin me at her last seen location.” She swallows, realizing he isn’t moving. No shifting head, wild gesturing movements. It’s the truth. “He wanted money.”

“Oh god.”

“I told you I was funding a project at the hospital. Every month I would send him money for his silence.” She holds her breath. “When I got arrested the money stopped, but the calls didn’t.”

“What.”

“He would threaten Malcolm and Ainsley. He was a belligerent drunk. From what I could gather after he lost that money he lost everything, wife divorced him and took the kids. He drank to forget.” He twists his shoulders back, fixing his posture. “I helped him again. Got him into rehab. From what I could tell, he got his life back together.”

“And became a serial killer.”

“Well not all of us can be perfect, Jessie.” He continues with a shrug, “Never got the wife back but found his faith in religion. Not to keen on it myself but to each their own.”

“Where is he now?”

“From last I heard? He got his job back.”

Just like that the world stops spinning. Her pain makes way for horrific clarity. The black clothes with the covered badges. Malcolm and Gil’s frustration over his ability to get in and out of the park despite there being patrols all over the city. How he got into her home without alerting anyone. “He’s a cop.”

“Yes.”

Anxiety clamps down on her stomach. The man has been right there all along. None of them had even suspected. Hell, it could’ve been the man that drove her here. She suddenly, ironically feels herself not wanting to leave. She can’t seem to move. Her feet feel too heavy. Her mind and body aching from overexertion. 

“Jessica?” She hears Martin call to her but she feels too far away to respond. Only the wall behind her is holding her up. “Jessie.” The annoyance laced in his tone exacerbated as she hears the door to the hallway slide open. “Jess!” Panic.

The door opens beside her and Malcolm and Ainsley step in, looking equally alarmed and agitated. Their eyes fall on her, and she sees the color strip from their faces. Malcolm is on her in a second, hands holding her up by her elbows. She must look too pale because he looks like he’s ready for her to faint.

Ainsley, on the other hand, whips around to Martin, eyes accusatory. “What the fuck did you do to her?” She should stop her, a part of her thinks. Yet she still doesn’t move. It’s Mr. David who grabs Ainsley by the middle pulling her back over the red line towards safety. Whether it’s her own or Martin’s she’s not entirely sure.

“Mom. Hey, mom. Look at me.” She does. “We gotta go. Ok?” No, they can’t. It’s not safe. How did they get here? “Gil’s waiting outside. They wouldn’t let him in, but he’s going to take us back.” She relaxes a little. She needs to warn them about the cop. She needs to. But she feels lightheaded and her heels are far too unstable. “I got you, it’s ok.” And he smiles, that gentle smile when he swears that everything will be alright. “Ains, come on.”

She’s braced on both sides by her kids as she walks out with Martin shouting behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was initially going to hold back on this update until Sunday but y’all already know my impulse control is nonexistent and with the encouragement of new friends (hey naomi and elena!!) I had to go ahead and post. Tried something a little new with this chapter and it focuses a lot on Malcolm and I learned I actually like writing in his POV a lot so that’s new. It also features more Edrisa bc I love her and she’s my best friend’s absolute fav so I had to do them some service after the help with the last chapter which got some of my most insanely complimentary comments. Like one of y’all really commented how I wrote Martin well and I didn’t stop smiling the entire day. That’s fucking insane. Hope y’all enjoy the update and are staying safe!

Gil steps out of the room, exhaustion settling into him.  Immediately Ainsley sits up leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“How is she? Is she ok?” The drive back from Claremont had been the worst. Jessica had jumped with every siren sounding and in New York? It was a lot. Ainsley held her hand the entire time while Malcolm rocked, his brain firing off at a million miles a minute. Nobody said a word but it was Jessica’s silence that was the most concerning to them. 

What the hell happened in that cell?

“She remembered what happened, didn’t she?” Malcolm casts a glance at Ainsley who doesn’t meet his gaze. Gil can only shrug.

“She still hasn’t said anything but something in there definitely got to her. I called Dani and JT. They agreed to be the new details until we can sort out why she got so uncomfortable when we passed the guards on our way out and the drive home.”

“We should go get mom’s things.” Ainsley says. “She only packed clothes. She left all of her products and things she’ll probably need. Who knows how long this stay will last, we should at least make her comfortable.” But she shifts her eyes to the door where Jessica was sleeping, or at least pretending to. She feels guilty for leaving her twice, it’s written all over her face.

“I’ll go.” Malcolm offers. “I feel like we missed something that night. It’ll give me a chance to look again.”

“Hell no.” Gil protests immediately. “I’m not comfortable with you going alone.”

“I’ll bring a detail.” His retort is interrupted by the sound of movement from the other room, like someone shifting around in the bed. Jessica is listening and for whatever reason, she doesn’t like that.

“We can go tomorrow. Right now I want all of us under the same roof.” Malcolm tips his head back, annoyed then rises again with an idea.

“What if I bring Edrisa? She’ll be able to help me look around and we’ll be back before you know it.” No more sounds of ruffling interrupt so Gil has to give in.

“Fine, but I want updates. And if you get even a whiff that something is wrong you two get the hell out.”

“Deal.” Gil sighs as Malcolm rushes off to text Edrisa.

The Whitly’s are going to be the death of him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“This is so exciting.” Edrisa practically bounces with every step up the driveway. “I’ve never actually got to be a part of the actual investigation.” She pauses, a thought interrupting her excitement. “Should I have brought something to defend myself?”

Malcolm smiles, her enthusiasm is refreshing after his day. Honestly, part of him just wanted to talk to her to get some of the weight of the world off his shoulders. For a brief moment this case isn’t a killer threatening his family. It’s just him and Edrisa. “Edrisa, we’re just getting clothes.”

“Are you sure cause I have pepper spray in my car.”

“Yes I’m sure.” He holds the door open for her gesturing to enter. “And besides, you’ve got me.” She beams at that, her pep coming back in full force as she bounds to the kitchen. He follows with a shake of his head.

“Ok, so what are we looking for?”

“Well, my mother drinks tea like most people drink water.” He points to the cabinet where they usually keep it. “It’s her comfort but Gil doesn’t keep tea in the house.” If Edrisa is curious why, she doesn’t show it. His tone is enough and he’s absolutely certain she read the casefile from that night.

Tea was how the surgeon sedated his victims, Gil was almost one of them.

When Edrisa opens the cabinet her eyes widen. The shelves are stacked with bags of tea, neatly sealed with tight creases. “That’s a lot.” She chuckles.

“It’s everyone’s favorites. Chai for Ainsley, the black is mine. She has every worker’s favorites, I think she even managed to get JT’s but don’t tell him that.”

“My lips are sealed. Matcha is my favorite, by the way.” She winks.

“Oh, she knows.” He grins at the wide, starry eyed look she gets. She blushes and clears her throat before turning back to the task. “Mother’s is the earl grey supreme.”

“What’s the difference between that and the earl grey?”

“Honestly?” Malcolm shrugs. “Price, probably.” Often she falls into the trap of the more expensive the better, it makes for an interesting Christmas and a pain in the ass to get gifts for her when she just buys anything she could possibly want on a whim.

Edrisa stops for a second, her posture straightening, and then getting on her tiptoes to see better. Even from behind he can tell she’s got something on her mind. It’s confirmed when she reaches inside pulling out a smaller, black bag. His head tilts because his mother never bought small bags. Even for people that rarely passed through she wanted to make sure they were prepared. Then the label catches his eye, it’s a completely different brand then what she normally buys from. A brand he hasn’t seen in years.

The brand his father likes.

“Where did you find that?” He asks, on edge and looking out the door. The house is silent other than the two of them but that doesn’t mean that can’t change at any second.

“It was on the bottom shelf and it’s open. All the rest are sealed. Why?”

Just like that it all pieces together. 

His mother had asked him that night if he made tea. He’d told her no and that made her seem more agitated. At first he thought it was because the killer had made her tea, had been in her room. No, it was much more than that. With Freddy’s connection to Claremont, the ability for the killer to find her bedroom and the kitchen so quickly, and the tea that his father used to make.

“The surgeon. He knows who the killer is.” The rush of emotion the punches him in the chest makes him stumble back against the counter. Edrisa runs to him, one hand on his elbow to steady him. Her presence isn’t enough to tamper the anger thudding in his chest with every heartbeat. He knew. He  _ knew  _ when she was missing. He  _ knows  _ now that her life is being threatened.

He was the one who got her to remember.

“That’s why she’d gone to him. She recognized the tea and didn’t say a word about it. Why didn’t she tell us?” Anger clashes with sadness burning at his retinas. He shuts his eyes tightly pressing the heels of his palm to them trying to get himself back under control.

“Malcolm.” His own name sounds unfamiliar in Edrisa’s voice. She’d always called him Bright. Never Malcolm. “Let’s get her stuff and go. They’ll get worried soon.” Her calmness has him taking a deep breath and nodding. “Good.” She extends her hand to him, it’s an almost childish offer in its innocence. Her hand is something to ground him to the world. It gives him something different to focus on rather than his feelings.

Wordlessly, he takes her hand.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Malcolm and Edrisa arrive the house is more crowded than before. JT is by the doorway with Ainsley and Dani sharing the couch. Gil has made coffee for everyone, certain that it will be a long night all around. They all look relieved to see them but Gil reads it on his face before anyone else.

“You found something.”

“Hooooo, did I find something.” Edrisa lingers next to him, unsure if she should stay or go. She decides on the former when Ainsley scoots on the couch leaving room for her to sit on the end closest to where Malcolm still stood. “Is she awake?”

“Bright, is this a good idea?” Dani asks sitting up a little straighter. He notes that she’s in much more casual clothes, probably looking to rest before trading shifts with JT.

“Nope. But I think she knows who the killer is. And if I’m right?”

“Go. We’ll be right out here.” Ainsley nods, making the final decision.

He shifts the bag over his shoulder opening the door to the bedroom slowly. In the dim light streaming between the curtains he sees his mother sitting on the side of the bed, she’s got something in her hands but it’s too dark to make out.

“Mom?” Her head turns to him, her expression isn’t the blank unreadable one from earlier. No, she looks relieved that he’s back. The news twists uneasily in his stomach as he shuts the door behind him. “Can I ask you a couple of questions?” He doesn’t really expect her to answer. But when her breathing doesn’t pick up or really make any uncomfortable movements he takes it as permission.

He grabs a chair sliding it so that he can sit across from her. Closer he can see how tired she is. Her breakdown likely didn’t help but she definitely didn’t fall asleep at any point in time since she got back.

“Stop me if you need to, ok?” She blinks at him so he continues. “Why did you go see him?” He treads lightly, testing the waters first. An annoyed expression passes over her face but she doesn’t shift or startle. He digs in the duffel he brought along pulling out the bag of tea. “Is this why?”

When her eyes land on the bag she takes a shuddering breath, it’s confirmation enough. 

“This was the tea he used to make.” She blinks back the tears, correct again. “This is why you visited him. The killer made you the same tea, you knew he had something to do with all of this.” Her lower lip wobbles but she holds herself tightly wound. “He knew who did this.” The first tear that slides down her cheek makes him feel like the worst. “Do you want me to stop?” She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. Her hand unfolds and in it is a crumpled note. He takes it, slowly as not to startle her into shutting back down.

_ Just like you like. _

“Did the killer write this?” A nod. Malcolm takes a breath trying not to be frustrated that she kept this from them. Had they known they would have questioned his father so much sooner. The information she knew, it’d be common knowledge. “Thank you.” He says instead, taking her hand and enclosing it in both of his. She’d held his shaking hand like this countless amounts of times, her fingers stroking the back of his hand in the same way he mimics now. “I need you to tell me what he told you.” She starts, but doesn’t pull away. “Please.”

Her voice is deep, more tonal than he’s ever heard come from her. He almost thinks he imagines it. It’s too low to understand what she says.

“What?”

“He’s a cop.” Her eyes meet his, glassy from unshed tears. He smiles at her sadly, too caught up in the fact that his mom is back before the gravity of her words hits him full force.

Oh. 

_ Shit. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for y’all! Starting from here we’re beginning to see the end fold out. I’m so happy y’all have been liking this so much and it means so much to me to get so many sweet comments. As of right now I have a pretty good idea how the rest of the events are going into fall into place. Until next time!

Malcolm comes out of the room, finally. Ainsley and Edrisa’s lighthearted conversation ended abruptly with his appearance. He looks simultaneously lighter and like he has the weight of the world balanced on his shoulders. His eyes don’t quite meet the crowd anxiously awaiting his input.

“She talked to me.” His smile is a sad one. One that he’s seen plenty of times after talking to a victim’s family. When he knows that they’ll be ok, although changed forever. “The killer is a cop.”

Dani casts an alarmed look at him and Edrisa stiffens. JT, who clearly had been listening outside the door comes in with a deep scowl on his face. “Who is it?”

“She doesn’t know. The killers were wearing masks the entire time but she saw enough to identify the uniform.” He shifts from side to side. One of their own. “It explains a lot.”

“That’s why your mom was asking ‘where is he’ in the precinct.” A flash of guilt and understanding passes over Dani’s face. She quickly covers it with one of curiosity instead. “So how do we narrow him down?”

“Well based on her description he’s white, late thirties to early forties judging on his voice. Fit build in order to carry bodies and super religious.”

“How does she tell he was religious?”

“She didn’t. The surgeon did.” Gil states. Edrisa’s face sinks turning back to Malcolm. He nods at her, a promise that he’s ok if a little tired. “When I visited him Dr. Whitly talked about the needle’s eye. It was the name the killers claimed just before Jess escaped.”

“The needle’s eye?” Ainsley asks, she kept up with the news being a journalist but it’s the reference she’s not familiar with. Not that Gil blames her, none of the Whitly’s really grew up religious.

“ _ It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”  _ Gil recites, Martin’s tone still fresh in his mind. The room holds still for a second, processing. 

“A religious white cop in his early 40s. Simple.” Dani shrugs bitterly.  She’s right, half of the cops in their precinct alone could match that description. It doesn’t help that they can’t pass along the information. They’ve seen this play out too many times. Defensive tones and screaming matches. More intent on protecting friends than the people they’re meant to serve. Even when there’s undeniable proof, they’d sooner fall on the sword than turn against a fellow officer. 

All of the people he trusts are in this building.

“I’ll speak to Jess.” Gil sighs. None of them argue, with Ainsley still processing his words and Dani and JT stirring in the anger of yet another corrupt cop. It’s Edrisa who breaks the tension.

“Bright, why don’t we make some tea for your mom?” It’s a small question but the relief on Malcolm’s face is immediate. His answer is an eager nod and quick steps. He knows the steps of his mom’s drink by heart but her presence is an ease on the pressure.

Ainsley’s heel taps 3 times. It’s an anxious tick to keep her own tears at bay. Dani stands and tosses her head at the door. “Let’s go on a drive.”

Her eyes go comedically wide. “Me? No, I’m fine.” Dani evens her with one look. When a Whitly says their fine, it is a guaranteed lie. “Well, everyone should eat and I doubt Gil has enough food for 7 people.”

He laughs but knows what each of them are doing. His walls are thin. Without the noise of casual chatter, either Whitly would be able to hear their mom and if it got tense? It would be something Jess wouldn’t want either of them to hear. He swells, just a little, feeling grateful that his team will take care of his family.

Now for him to as well.

When he comes in Jessica looks annoyed, knowing that he needs to go through the process of questioning all over again. “Dani and Ainsley are going to get food.” Her eyebrows furrow. “I can send them to your favorite diner.”

“It’s not my favorite.” She pushes and it makes him smile. He’d taken her to a rundown diner shortly after Martin’s arrest. It was a hole-in-the-wall place, the food greasy and burnt coffee permeating the air. It was a place where nobody would recognize her, everyone too focused on just getting by to be caught up on the socialite drama. They frequented there for years and no matter how many times she insisted it wasn’t her favorite, her eyes lit up in a special way when she ordered the cherry pie.

“Sure it’s not.” He sits in the seat across from her. Her eye roll is a gratifying one, it’s clear she’s beginning to feel more like herself. “So what didn’t you tell Malcolm.”

She gapes, ready to defend herself. But he tilts his head with a knowing stare. She sighs, annoyed and relents. “I told him most of it.”

“Most?”

“How I got shot, stabbed.” She looks to the door, “He wouldn’t leave until I did. After I told him…” That the killer is a cop, he finishes in his head, “he didn’t trust anyone else to question me.”

“Did you talk about Freddy?” The look on her face is enough to tell him no, she hadn’t. “We found his family.”

“God.” She breathes.

“His name was Francisco Garcia, he was a volunteer at Claremont.” Her face drops, already coming to the realization before he says anything. “His mother is Dr. Garcia.”

For a moment she sinks back into herself. For one terrifying moment he thinks she’ll shut down again. And then she laughs.

It’s deep and bitter, where every emotion is so strong, so overwhelming. Too many tears had been shed in the past two weeks that the empty laugh is haunting. He knows it’ll be in his nightmares. “Of fucking course.” She takes a deep breath and he knows if she were in her own home she’d be throwing something. But since it’s not she controls herself not to break anything of his. “He was connected to Martin.”

“That’s why you went to see him.”

“Yes.” She stands, her energy too much now. She paces back and forth in the small space between his bed and closet. She turns back to him, eyes wild with unkempt rage. “You know what he asked me?” She shakes her head. “He asked someone broke into  _ our _ home. Our home!” She tosses her head back, her wild curls flying with the motion. “That bastard hasn’t lived there for 20 fucking years and he  _ dared _ to call it  _ our home _ . And,” She gasps remembering more. “ _ And  _ he looked at me. Concerned! Like he has any fucking right. It just-” Another gasp. “It reminded me of-”

He walks to her holding his hands out slowly. She eyes the movement warily but when he places her hands on her shoulders she breathes evenly again, though still furious. His fingers stroke the exposed skin from where his shirt that she was wearing had slipped down.

She steadies herself with his touch. “What gives him the right? He doesn’t care for us. He wants to control us.” Her eyes light again. “And- He knew! He knew that bastard is a cop. That all this time. When he threatened Malcolm and Ainsley. And he acts like he cared!”

“The killer threatened Malcolm and Ainsley?”

“I wasn’t cooperating. He told me he’d bring them in and make them choose between me or a stranger.” Gil takes a shaky breath. “And Martin  _ knew.  _ I called Malcolm  _ our son.”  _ Her voice breaks at that, her head bowing into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her and her own come to grip the back of his tee shirt tightly at his shoulder blades. She clings on like if she loosens her hold for even a second, he’ll disappear.

He presses a kiss to her temple whispering soft comforts to her while they rocked back and forth. He rubs soothing circles between her shoulders careful of places where he knows that bruises still linger. When she finally calms down he doesn’t know what to say. If he lets her speak first she’ll apologize, pull herself away from him. He won’t let her do that so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. “You know, Malcolm punched a journalist.”

This laugh is lighter. Her shoulders shake in a new way, alleviating all the tension in the room. It fills the hollowness that her confession had left. She must have pictured it because her laugh gets louder and he can’t help but laugh too.

And he knows they’ll be ok.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closing in on the end now!! I’m excited but nervous for this to end bc I honestly don’t know what I’ll do with my time next. Most of my free time has been dedicated to this fic so I’m going to be looking for new ideas here soon. Hope y’all enjoy and buckle up cause this chapter is a long one!

Watching Ainsley back on the newscast is a welcome normal to Jessica’s monotonous day. With Malcolm and Gil throwing themselves into investigating officers, she was put essentially on complete lockdown in Gil’s apartment. With Dani and JT cycling as her watchers, they feel more comfortable leaving. It’s irritating but the way Malcolm relaxes, knowing she’s safe. She does it for him.

_ “The search for the Needle’s Eye continues,” _ Ainsley rattles off, eyes disconnected from the words. It’s a tactic Jessica admired and feared when she was able to talk about such horrific things when not letting them in at all. Once on camera her face would clear, a determined one carrying over.  _ “The officers in charge of the case are investigating a possible lead into Beverly Construction, where a body has been discovered. Police believe the man, identified to be Jason Carter, is one of the killers.” _ Ainsley stops, suddenly getting a far off look. Jessica knows she’s listening to someone in her ear. From the emotions that flash over her face in that split second she already knows what comes next. First is the bitter anger, then curiosity that blossoms into interest, all before she schools her face again. _ “Hold on a second, we have Dr. Martin Whitly, otherwise known as the surgeon dialing in.  _ _ Dr. Whitly has provided insight into multiple investigations so it will be interesting to see what he makes of this new killer on the scene.” _ _ ” _

Jessica braces herself for the impact that his voice will bring. It doesn’t help. Not for what happens next.

_ “He’s coming.”  _ The voice on the other end of the call sends ice down her spine. It’s gruff, far from the animated speech of Martin. Ainsley’s face pales on the screen. She knows just as well as Jessica who is on the other side of this call.

“Who is this?” She tries to ask in her best investigative tone but the tremor shakes. It’s the first time she’s even seen her phased. Jessica must have made some kind of noise, deep from the back of her throat because the door opens behind her.

“Mrs. Whitly?” Dani stops in the doorway, eyes falling on the television.

_ “You brood of vipers, how can you, being evil, speak what is good?” _

“Is that?” A few more steps and Dani is beside the couch, her phone in her hand frantically texting.

“Who is this?” Ainsley asks again, firmer.

_ “Do you know where your son is?”  _ Just like that the floor goes out from under her feet. The call ends abruptly with Ainsley staring at the camera in horror and fury. The blonde curls bounce when she snaps her head around to someone off screen and the channel cuts to commercials.

“Mrs. Whitly.” Dani whispers, like she’s ready approaching an active bomb. Jessica’s heart thuds too quickly in her chest and they both jump when her phone begins ringing.

_ Claremont Psychiatric,  _ the screen reads. Before Dani can make a move for it Jessica answers. She swallows, ready to do anything the person on the other line tells her. Anything to protect her son. He doesn’t deserve to face what she had. He’d been through more than enough.

_ “Jessie.”  _ Martin’s voice calls out from the line, tense and thin. He begins rattling but she can’t hear him over the static filling her mind. All the words he spits out at rapid speed don’t even reach her as she stares blankly at the TV. Only one thought comes to her, so lost among the white noise.

He sounds terrified.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dani clutches the wheel tight in her grip, eyes casting to Mrs. Whitly. The silence in the car is a far too familiar one. Picking up the Whitlys when something terrible happens to Malcolm seems like it’s a part of her job description. Normally it’s Ainsley who fills the quiet with the unending questions one would expect from a journalist.

This is heavy, oppressive. She can see Mrs. Whitly pulling the bag closer to her with every turn of the car.

She doesn’t blame the anxiety. They’re on their way to Claremont. The Surgeon made her own skin crawl the first time she met him. But Claremont employees were the last ones to see Malcolm, according to the calls. She needs to talk to Dr. Whitly, he could have seen something. If Malcolm was nervous before, had he known he was being followed, anything. She almost feels sorry for her watching dread turn her face pale.

But something doesn’t feel right.

Her suspicions are confirmed the second her ringtone blares again. To Mrs. Whitly’s credit, she doesn’t immediately reach for her phone to answer it again. Rather, she looks to Dani after she reads the number holding it to her.

It’s marked as unknown, but in their area. It could just be a spam caller, but something tells Dani the Whitly’s don’t really have that problem. When you have enough money you can make the small nuisances of life disappear.

“Put it on speaker.” She tells Jessica, only diverting her eyes from the road for a second to make sure she understands. “We’re tracking the calls on both your phone and Ainsley’s. Keep him talking. If we can get a location pinned on him, we’ll be able to find Malcolm.” She nods, swallowing. 

The line crackles to life with a monotonous threat.  _ “8640 Westshire Avenue. Come alone.”  _ The call ends and Dani can see Mrs. Whitly’s hands shaking. Her mind flashes to Malcolm and she switches lanes. Abandoning the path to Claremont she speeds up towards the address. Westshire Avenue is a line of mostly abandoned warehouses, they’ve gotten calls there more than a few times. It doesn’t make her feel good about Malcolm’s chances. It’s remote. Quiet.

And the way Mrs. Whitly holds herself sitting a little too straight, she knows exactly where they’re going too. Her eyes fall to her lap, her hands white knuckled on the bag again. She recognizes the grip, having seen it too many times in suspects weighing their chances.

“What’s in the purse?” Dani asks slowly. She dreads the question but the way that she guards it, being extra careful that it doesn’t tip or shuffle. She knows. Out the corner of her eye she watches her flinch. She feigns innocence, not well. “How’d you get it?” She thinks for a moment, and the realization settles. “Malcolm.” It makes sense. They know she has a registered firearm. Malcolm would have grabbed it the night he and Edrisa went to pack her things. Extra protection. He wouldn’t take the chance if something went wrong with her or JT. That’s why he was more willing to leave back to the precinct without taking her with them. Knowing that she can protect herself would put him at ease.

He should have told them.

She pulls the car over turning to her. “What are you doing?”

“Give me the gun.” Dani holds a hand out but Jessica’s cover her purse. She tilts her head with a sigh. “Please. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Doesn’t it.” She straightens, a furious look shining in the dim light. “He took my son. Malcolm had nothing to do with this.”

“Neither did you.”

“But it had all to do with Martin.” She shakes her head not meeting her gaze. Dani knows she’s blinking away the tears. “I should have gotten it over with when I had the chance.” Dani’s head tilts, eyes widening for a split second. It was a small confession but one that set off so many alarms in her head. She almost asks what she means by that when she remembers.

The surgeon had been stabbed, supposedly by the woman across from her to protect an innocent’s life.

Looking at her now, Dani knows that isn’t what happened.

“I could turn this car around. Take you back to the station.” She threatens.

“You won’t.” The woman’s voice wavers with uncertainty. “Malcolm, he’s your friend. You won’t take that risk.” Dani runs her tongue along the back of her teeth, setting her jaw with determination. They are running out of time. “If Gil hadn’t seen the news, if he didn’t know. You’re telling me you wouldn’t run in as soon as you got there to save my son?”

She can’t answer that. Not truthfully, at least. She has, a dozen times, run after Malcolm. Running the numbers in her head. Calculating every single risk to grab his ass after he’s rushed in. She’s seen his anger, his panic, the desperation unfurling at every scene.

A needle full of poison, his hands pressed on a landmine, an axe raised high above his head with a wild look. Ready to do whatever it took.

Staring at the woman across from her it pains Dani to know she ever thought he got that from his dad. Not when Jessica’s eyes shine with the same bitterness towards the world who has kicked them a few times too many. Her voice draws, a deep rumble in her chest. “I’ve been married to a serial killer, dated another who stabbed maybe the only person who gave a damn about my children, I’ve pushed my daughter into a window to stop her from being hit by an axe. I’ve done  _ everything in my power  _ to protect them.”

“Will this protect him?” She sucks in a breath. “His dad is already a killer, Ainsley’s self defense plea almost ripped him apart and this? He will blame himself.”

“He can’t.”

“But he will. He will think about every single thing he could’ve done differently. To stop you from losing a part of yourself. Gil too.” 

“He has Ainsley, Gil, Edrisa, his team. He will be fine.”

“But he needs you.” Dani’s throat constricts emotion threatening to betray her. “He needs his mom.” That must get to her because her face begins to twitch. Her anger falls away to what truly lies beneath the surface, fear and grief. She lets go of the bag and Dani reaches inside securing the firearm.

The silence lapses again as they start back down the road. It’s different, less foreboding and more solemn. It takes a few minutes before Jessica speaks. “How do you get past this?” She casts a quick look over but she’s staring out the window, eyes not seeing the scenery flying past them. “You’ve seen dozens of horrors. The gruesome things we do to each other. How do you do it?”

Her hands grip the wheel tighter. “You don’t. Every case takes something. Some take more than others but they all do. I’ve tried shutting it down, leaving everything at work. But it doesn’t help.”

“No kidding.” She laughs bitterly.

“You have people. They push you past it.” Jessica looks to her, eyebrows furrowed. “Going at it alone, it’s too much. When you have people that care for you,” She sighs. “Well, it’s easier to do it when you’re doing it for someone else.”

“I did.” Her voice is thick, Dani looks away pretending not to see the tear that slides down her cheek. “I got out for them.”

A few more beats pass. She taps an even rhythm as she realizes they’re creeping closer to their destination. She should text Gil. “Find something that grounds you.”

“What does that even mean?” She swipes at her face looking away again. She needs to calm her down before she makes the connection herself.

“You pick something that keeps you here. And when everything feels like too much you think of that.”

“Like what?”

“A person, a memory-”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, I guess that could work.” Her eyes focus on the street signs, watching carefully for her next turn. “You find what you’re looking for, it stops. It keeps you from falling into your emotions. It’s a lot harder to be angry when you’re thinking about it.”

“And this is a memory for you? Isn’t it a little counterintuitive to move forwards when looking back?”

“Aren’t we all looking back?”

“No.” Dani’s eyes jump to her, clearly having struck a nerve. She curses herself in realization. Her happiness was also her greatest downfall. The person she loved was her ruin. No wonder she doesn’t want to look back on that. “You said a dream, you mind if I ask?”

“The first night when I was taken. I dreamt of Christmas, this year. Having my family all together. No cases, no Martin lingering in our minds. Gil put on music and we danced.” She sighs, shaking her head. “Truth be told, I don’t remember the last time I danced. It felt…”

“Like healing.”

Her eyes shine with tears, her voice barely a whisper. “I suppose so.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The turn into the warehouse brings the foreboding feeling back tenfold. Jessica’s anxiety settles in her stomach because they have no idea what they will find inside. Honestly, they don’t even truly know if he’s the only one left. There could be another partner. Malcolm could be hurt, he might need an ambulance.

Dani’s face firms when she looks at her phone. She knows what that look means in a second.

She can’t call for backup. They’re alone on this.

She parks the car gathering all she needs. “Stay here.” It’s more of a command than anything as she steps out. “I’m going to look for a payphone. He had to have used one to call you.” She disappears in the other direction, only her shadow from the overhead lights showing where she went from Jessica’s limited view.

Her eyes fall back on the door. The metal looms before her and she knows in her gut that this isn’t a trick. Her son is inside, alone and scared. God, he could be hurt and bleeding for all she knows. She wishes for only a moment that she didn’t give the gun over, that she could just end this without feeling the slightest bit of remorse.

She could still end this.

Her head whips back to where Dani went. It wouldn’t take long for her to find something to call Gil. She had to move quickly and quietly. She climbs from the car, the detective’s voice still ringing in her mind.  _ He needs you.  _ She’s absolutely certain this isn’t what she meant but she’s right regardless.

The metal door slides noisily and she knows she’s lost. The second she steps in she could be killed. But she pictures her little boy, slumped from being stabbed with his hand held close to his chest having smashed it to save her and his sister. The smell of blood and dirt from the memory washes over her harshly.

She pushes herself inside.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we gooo. I absolutely have Em to thank yet again for helping me with this chapter and the discord gc for continuously inspiring me to keep writing. It’s honestly been such a blast writing this that I’m getting out updates faster than anything I’ve ever published before. Em knows just as well as me exactly where I want this story to go and that was a neverending push to getting down voices and conversations. I’m just mushy honestly because this is the most reception I’ve ever got to a fic before and I couldn’t do it without an amazing group of people rallying behind me. Thank you all so much.

The walk inside the warehouse feels like a death march. Her heels clang loudly on the cement, the echo off the metal walls is a laughing chorus towards her own personal doom. She misses the lonely sound when the frantic, muffled screaming starts. She knows it’s Malcolm and he knows the steps are hers.

She steps into the room, her hands balled tightly and in no way mentally prepared for the sight. Malcolm’s hands and ankles are bound to the chair, his hair is disheveled and she wonders for a moment how long he’s been struggling. The blood on the side of his face makes her heart skip a few beats but his eyes are worse.

Even from back here she could tell he’s been crying. They’re swollen and the blue stands out against the red rims in the artificial light. His mouth is bound as well, making it clear that’s why he sounded so muffled. She wants more than anything to run to him, free his hands and hug him with all of her might.

And then she spies the one in the chair across from him. Her head is tipped forwards but the white coat alone is enough to identify Dr. Garcia. The woman that she’s caused enough pain. Now trapped in this hellscape. She was going to call, offer to pay for Freddy’s funeral expenses. But no, now she’s stuck in her son’s nightmare. Awaiting death by the madman in the center of it all.

“I’ve got to be honest,” Her eyes jump to the man standing between the two. For the first time he’s wearing no mask. It sickens her how painfully average he looks. Her dreams always showed the monster, sharp teeth and glowing eyes. Absolutely torn apart by every aspect pushing him to murder. She knows better, or she should’ve. The monsters look ordinary until they’re covered in blood. “I wasn’t sure you were going to show up.”

Malcolm’s screams become more frantic and he throws his body in every which way. She knows, painfully, how futile it is. The chairs are bolted to the ground. They won’t budge in the slightest.

“Shut up!” The man snaps, spitting at her son.

“Do not touch him.” Her voice rolls with the threat, more confident than she feels. His gun glistens with the turn back to her.

When he tilts his head towards her the smile is so much worse than she expected. Malcolm stares at her, eyes pleading that she walk away. She can’t. Not again. “You’re bolder when it’s your son tied up, hm?” He steps towards her and she takes another towards him. He points the gun at Malcolm and she freezes. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Malcolm doesn’t have anything to do with this. Let him go.”

“I really thought you would’ve learned better than making demands. Don’t you remember what happened last time?” Her side aches with the recalled memory. “Your recovery is really impressive. Dr. Garcia did stunning work.” He gestures to the unconscious woman. Her breathing is the only indicator that she’s even still alive. “Would be tragic for the world to lose such a gift.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asks. The desperation wrecks her throat. “I would have given you anything you wanted. Just end this.”

“I don’t want your blood money.” He hisses with his head bowed, his challenge to avoid the sin that drove him to madness. “It is poison, you poisoned me.”

“I did nothing to you!”

“Liar!” She steps forwards, emboldened by her anger and the gun trains on her. She takes a deep breath, steadying the fear that sent her heart into orbit. “It’s time to make your choice.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I won’t play your game.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that, so I changed the rules.” He spins on his heel, gun trained on Dr. Garcia. “Either the talented doctor that saved your life or your son.”

She steps back in horror. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“Neither was your escape.” He shrugs with a smirk. “Plans change. If you don’t pick? I’ll kill them both.”

“No!” His glare could lay down an army and she corrects herself. “No, please. Just let me talk to my son.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I just want to say goodbye.” She says. Malcolm begins to protest but she puts a hand up silencing him. “Do you have kids?” He shifts and she knows she struck a nerve. “What would you give to be able to say goodbye?”

The silence weighs heavily on her shoulders. For a few moments all she can hear is her thundering heart. Even Malcolm holds still, wondering what exactly is her plan. Truth be told, she’s not even sure. His permission is no more than a wave of the gun, a signal to go ahead.

She rushes to him coming down hard on her knees before him. Her hands fall on his shoulders while her eyes search for any other injuries. She doesn’t see any more blood than the head wound, which is a relief. So he didn’t want to hurt Malcolm, but he would if she wasn’t careful.

“Oh, Sunshine.” She whispers, her fingers tracing the fabric covering his mouth.

“Don’t take it off!” They both flinch at the shout but she obeys. 

Her hand traces up to the wound and he winces painfully. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He gives her a look somewhere along the lines of  _ are you serious?  _ and she smiles despite herself. “Don’t blame yourself for this. You’re too hard on yourself.” He doesn’t respond but his eyes glisten. “Your sister will need you. I need you to be strong for her one more time, ok?” The tears come down with that statement. He knows, god help them both he knows what she plans to do. “Gil will take care of you both. Tell him…” Her voice catches with the confession she never got to say. “Tell him I loved him. Tell your sister too. Every time she needs to hear it.”

“Hurry up.”

“I love you all, so much. I’m so proud of you.” She cups his jaw with both hands. His words are muffled but she knows he’s begging her to stop all this. To stall just a little while longer. Back up is coming. Gil will find them in time. 

She stopped waiting on someone to save her a long time ago.

“Close your eyes Sunshine. I’ll be ok.” She smiles sadly before standing to face the man. He raises his eyebrows waiting impatiently for the answer. She swallows heavily, thinking for only a moment. Whenever she picked herself the other would die. But this isn’t between her and Dr. Garcia. This was Dr. Garcia or Malcolm. She will not take the risk that the rules will change again. “Kill Dr. Garcia.” Malcolm begins screaming and thrashing again but she’s just out of his limited reach. The smile cracks across the killers face as she stares down the barrel of the pistol.

“Thank you for coming to your senses.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gil races as fast as the car can go. He blows through every traffic light without even looking as the red and blue lights race through the darkened roads. He’s close, they just need to hold out a little longer. Jessica had went in without protection, without Dani. If she were to alert that Jessica wasn’t alone. It could mean the deaths of everyone in that warehouse.

The metal structure looms in the shadows, it feels bigger than it actually is. The sharp edges threaten to collapse with his worst fears as he climbs out backed by JT and Agent Collette arriving shortly after him. He spies Dani’s car but there’s no sight of her. It’s possible she’s already inside. At least that’s what he tells himself to alleviate the pain in his chest.

And then a shot breaks through the crisp air sending his world crashing down with it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here we are! I’m so sorry that I left y’all on a cliffhanger for such a long time but I needed to be in the proper mood to capture the tone of the last scene in this chapter. All we have left after this is the epilogue!! Hope y’all enjoy!

Malcolm doesn’t remember the last time a gunshot was so loud. It takes away all of the sound in the room like a vacuum had opened up in the center stealing one of his most vital senses. Only his own screaming remained, raw and bloody from the pieces of his heart still left in his chest. He can taste the copper through the cloth where the blood had sprayed his face.

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Not when he knows what he will see. His mother will be lying on the cement, too still. All of the color he has in his life fading with her skin tone. Bright and lively eyes will stare blankly up at the sheets of metal, denied the last opportunity to see the sky that she loves so dearly. The one person who refused to leave his side even when he was ungrateful ripped away violently. All she ever wanted was for them to be happy, she pushed herself to make sure they were.

Oh god, how will he tell Ainsley.

His shoulders wrack with sobs and he rocks back and forth trying to gather the little control he has left to open his eyes and face reality. 

Someone grabs him by the shoulders roughly and every ounce of anger explodes out of him. He thrashes around using every part of his body that isn’t tethered to the chair to knock the person off their balance. It works and he hears the person crash but they’re immediately replaced by another.

This one wraps their arms around him, a hand holding the back of his neck with manicured nails digging into his skin. The grip forces his head into a shoulder where his face is buried into a smooth silk blouse. But it’s the smell that makes him stop moving, bourbon and vanilla permeates his senses and dissipates his anger.

He pulls back, eyes wide and searching for answers.

Blue eyes stare back at him, red rimmed but smiling. A relieved laugh escapes her lips while she pulls the fabric from his mouth.

“Mom?” He whispers, his voice breaking.

He takes in the scene fully, Dr. Garcia is still slumped in her chair but she’s stirring clearly still alive but not entirely aware yet. The person he knocked to the ground was Dani, a pocket knife in hand looking a little winded after being headbutted in the stomach. The killer is on the ground, a hole in the middle of his forehead likely dead before he even hit the ground.

He has so many questions. Where did Dani come from? How did she know the perfect time? Did they plan this? Where is everyone else?

Those questions matter so little once his arms and legs are free.

He crashes into his mom, arms wrapping around her stomach so he can bury his face in her hair. Every image that flashed through his mind haunts him as he tightens his grip on her. He almost pulls away when she groans in pain, remembering it had not nearly been long enough into her recovery for him to be holding her so tight.

However, her arms wrap around him too, keeping him just as close to her chest. Her fingers brush through his hair, her voice a comforting whisper in his ear as he breaks down in sobs.

For all he knows she could be a figment of his broken psyche. The last piece of straw that breaks the camel’s back taking what’s left of his sanity with her. He breathes the scent in, his own hands gripping the back of her shirt. If he lets go she will disappear, just another body in a morgue. Just another life taken by a killer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The scene Gil walks in on is heartbreaking.

His gun was still drawn as he followed the screams. When they stopped he feared the worst. He rounds the corner on the scene that stops him in his tracks.

Malcolm clings to Jessica, both of them standing grasping the other as if they are the last connection to this world. They don’t even notice the new presence in the room. Too busy assuring themselves that they are, in fact, still alive.

It’s Dani who sees him first, checking in on Dr. Garcia who was slowly coming to before coming over to him. Her face gives away everything, her panic that had been building since she got off the phone with him to the relief that she got him in time. She opens her mouth, ready to deliver the report of what happened to him in detail.

He doesn’t let her.

Gil grabs her wrapping Dani in a hug around her shoulders and letting out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding for the entire drive. If it weren’t for her, god he doesn’t even want to begin to think what would have happened to his family. If Jess had died, it would have destroyed them all. Malcolm, already fractured by his father, would be gone. Ainsley just starting to put her life back together again, stuck wandering from room to room searching for someone who isn’t there. He would lose her all over again with no chance of repair this time.

“Thank you.” He whispers to her. “Thank you for saving my family.” She swallows with a short, glassy eyed nod.

Jess must have heard him because he meets her eyes next. The moment is oddly familiar, one where they passed a look over Malcolm who was so much smaller back then. The memory feels so far as he stares at them. He’d wanted to go to them, all that time ago. Wrap the both of them tightly and protect them from every danger. Ainsley had been so small, she hardly knew the weight the two of them carried on their shoulders.

He doesn’t wait for her extended hand this time. Not when he could have lost them both in one fell swoop. He wraps his arms around them both, Malcolm startling for a second at the new presence before he settles again. Only Ainsley is missing from the embrace, no doubt once the scene is secure or once they’re all safely away she will join. 

Jessica’s hand comes to rest on his own over Malcolm’s back and he presses a kiss to her hair. Thankful that the nightmare is finally over.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Standing over a grave has always been a wretched experience for Jessica. When she lost her parents in the wreck shortly after Malcolm was born, after the 23 women were killed, after Eve. Her hatred of death loomed in her very presence.

Still she attended every funeral. She funded every single one without a single moment of hesitation. Tommy Moore and Andrew Rankin’s were on the same day. She nearly wept with relief when she met the little boy named Michael. The parents informed her that Michael had been found playing on the swings by a police officer and picked up by his mother shortly after. Adolpho’s funeral was a private affair. Only his family and her own in attendance but it was nice. It felt fitting for him.

Freddy’s was the worst, she thinks as she stares at his headstone. She had been blocked in on either side by Malcolm and Ainsley, their hands holding tightly onto her own. Dr. Garcia’s eulogy for her son was short. Broken up with sobs and moments to gather herself. She wishes, painfully, about how it should’ve been her but Gil’s hand on her shoulder stops those thoughts.

“It’s not your fault.” She startles at the voice she hadn’t heard approaching. The woman who had been plaguing her thoughts is standing on her right. The doctor’s eyes are red rimmed, tears have been shed by nearly everyone in attendance that day but especially them. “Your son told me what you did trying to save Freddy.”

“Malcolm tends to exaggerate to protect others.” She laments.

“I don’t think so.” The entire time her eyes remain ahead, never looking at Jessica. “I read about you, you know. After the surgeon got arrested. How many of those families did you take care of?” She doesn’t know how to answer that question. “And your daughter told me that you already plan on setting up a school fund for the grandson of the second victim.” Jessica shakes her head, of course her children did that. They’re both such meddlers. “You didn’t do this to him.”

“I left him behind.”

“You went to get help.” Dr. Garcia argues and Jessica’s jaw snaps shut. “Any longer in there and your infection would have spread. You can’t argue with that, I was your doctor.” She sighs in defeat at that claim. “You tried to save my son. You’re a hero.”

“Your son was the hero. He cut up his shirt to tend to my injuries. He would’ve been a great doctor. You should be proud.”

The woman’s eyes get glassy at that. Her gaze casts over to another figure staring at them. “That’s his girlfriend. I’m sorry if she says anything angry to you. Freddy was all she had.”

“That’s not true.” Jessica swallows, grabbing the other woman’s hand. “She has you.”

“I don’t know if she’ll let me take her in.”

“Give her time.” Jessica looks to her own children talking with Gil. “They come around.” Dr. Garcia smiles, a sad one that is too reminiscent of a goodbye. Her heart aches for the woman that had to outlive her child. She would do anything to make sure that Malcolm and Ainsley would live long and happy lives.

“His father will take care of him. At least until I can see them again.” Jessica’s eyes fall on the grave beside Freddy’s. Her throat closes again with the familiar panic. “Please, don’t let this man tear you apart more than he already has. That monster can’t hurt them now. He can’t hurt you now.”

Tears slide unwillingly down her cheeks as she nods.

Jessica hopes she’s right.


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow. Here we finally are. This story has been an absolute pleasure to share with you guys and I am so very lucky for the positive responses I have received via it and the friends I’ve made because of it. For the commenters, thank you. Your words got me through some of the roughest patches of writing. For the gilica gc, this story actually brought me to you guys. And I am so beyond pleased with how yall have pushed me to be more creative than I’ve been in so long. I’m so excited for what’s next yall have no idea. And ofc for Em. Without you none of this would be possible. Thank you. I love you. And I hope you all enjoy this epilogue

The drive back from therapy takes inordinately longer than usual. Forgetting how bad traffic actually is was simple when she was with Adolpho. Conversation had flowed easily, mostly Jessica ranting about how she’s worried about her children over something that’d happened earlier that day. She doesn’t quite know if she’ll get used to the silence of driving alone.

She didn’t have it in her to hire another driver. Not after Adolpho had been there since Malcolm was born. Certainly not after the wreck that turned her entire life upside down all over again.

The seasons passed easily, a week stretching into a month. Before she even recognizes the time passing, the streets are covered in snow once again. Yet her only recognition from it is the ache of past injuries when the temperature drops again. The world fades back to normal, Malcolm’s cases resume, and she’s once again left standing among the wreckage wondering when she got left behind.

She shakes her head gathering her things as she steps out of the car. Every step towards the front door feels like it takes ages. She just wants to grab a drink and fall into bed where, if she’s lucky, Gil will still be there. Normally he’d attend therapy with her, at least to be there when she gets out, ready to offer support. However, he had a case and she had to go alone.

“It’s fine.” Jessica freezes at the voice as soon as she opens the door. It’s coming from the sitting room, every signal in her brain telling her to just run. Call Gil, get as far away as possible.

“She normally doesn’t get home this late. Should we call?” Ainsley’s concerned tone sets her at ease.

“Ains-” So it was Malcolm she heard. She furrows her brow, torn between being excited and concerned. Normally she has to beg her children to attend family dinners on time, showing up unexpectedly, much less already here before her, is a rarity. Something must be wrong. She braces herself for it as she rounds the corner to where they were.

The sight that greets her is even more surprising.

The room is decorated completely for the holidays, banisters covered in handmade trinkets from Malcolm and Ainsley’s childhood. The tree put up, a little less organized that she would normally have it but with all the charm of when they would put it together as a family. The smell of baked goods hangs in the air tempting her closer. In the middle of it all sits Malcolm and Ainsley, dressed in red and green. Gil stands across from them looking a little more than worried.

“Mom!” Ainsley gasps, clearly none of them had heard her come in over the record player churning out Christmas classics. 

“What is this?” She narrows her eyes at the three of them. So there’d been no case this morning. Rather the three of them had set this up.

“Surprise!!” The three shout with matching grins. The sight strikes a warm spot in her heart. One that hadn’t been touched in far too long.

“I thought we were only doing dinner tonight.” At least, that’s what her children had told her. Now she can clearly see the true intentions behind it. They’d set this all up. Just for her. The thought makes a lump form in her throat, tears stinging behind her eyes.

“Well there’s no cases, Ainsley called off today. We thought this could be our first Christmas as a family.” Malcolm rocks, almost pensive in the statement. He only relaxes when the smile breaks across her face and she shrugs placing her things down.

“Well, who am I to protest then?” Ainsley jumps up at that with a squeal, excitedly rushing over to the record player to turn up the music. She runs back to where Malcolm is sitting dragging him up by the elbows. The two twirl around the room and it makes her breath catch. The sight… it reminds her of.

“Here.” Gil stands by her, passing her a glass of scotch. The knowing smile on his face says everything.

“How-” The two of them dancing, the music. All of it was just like her dream. She’d never even told her therapist about the dream. The one that helped her get through all of what had happened to her, to her family. The process of healing had been wretched but the comfort the dream had brought made it lighter to carry.

“Dani told me.” She tilts her head back remembering the conversation in the car all those months ago.

“Wretched meddler.” She mumbles with no malice in her tone. She almost has the heart to thank her as she watches Malcolm throw his head back with a loud, booming laugh. Whatever Ainsley had said had them both uncontrollably laughing. She has to take a steadying breath to not shed tears once again.

“I do believe I owe you a dance?”

“It’s been ages since I’ve danced.”

“I don’t mind if you step on my toes.” He teases allowing her to take a drink from her glass before placing it down on the coffee table. His hand comes around her waist as they start off with a slow rock, with her walls lowering the dance becomes more of a swing. They match the pace of Malcolm and Ainsley spinning effortlessly around each other.

Halfway through the song Ainsley jumps between the two of them, stealing away Gil to dance with the childish glee of a toddler at a wedding. She bites her cheek careful to control her emotions as Malcolm swiftly takes her to match the steps of the song. Her chest feels like it’s going to burst as she meets her son’s eyes.

The time had been the hardest on the two of them. After that night Malcolm hadn’t left her home. He remained on guard, often collapsing on the bed next to her like he would at six years old after ballet. He remembered her goodbyes thinking she was going to die, she remembered how he couldn’t stop screaming refusing to open his eyes for fear of what he would see when he did. It haunted both of them like ink on their skin.

But looking at him now, with the same soft gaze that he held after the dust was finally settling again. A sparkle in his eyes that reminded her so much of Gil that she has to remind herself that they’re not actually related. She just cups his chin and he wrinkles his nose in fake annoyance. They don’t speak but his eyes tell her everything. That he would be okay, they both would be.

Ainsley’s giggles bounce off the walls as Gil dips her. When he lifts her, Ainsley joins her in the dance, stealing her away from her brother. With no break she swirls around her daughter, allowing her infectious glee to take over her as well.

Far behind her are the thoughts of what had happened. Even her therapy session feels like ages ago as the music dips and swells with the laughter in the room. Her eyes catch Gil’s over Ainsley’s shoulder. She wants to tell him so much but for now the gaze will have to do. Mostly because she wants to savor the sight of him and Malcolm dancing together as long as she possibly can. Gil smiles, nodding as if he understood and he feels the same.

This is their family. Finally together at last.


End file.
